The Mistress and the Madman
by icequeenkitty
Summary: After his encounter with Bushroot Darkwing finds a bigger,deadlyer challenger. Can he be the father Gosalyn needs? Who is the mysterious, beautiful woman who has enchanted him? Can he survive the vicious attacks of Quackerjack? It's playtime. AU
1. Chapter 1

**This is a sequel to Roots of Revenge**, though I think if you haven't read that one you may still be able to follow this all right but it certainly wouldn't hurt to read RoR too. :)

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**The Mistress and the Madman**

-Chapter one-

An Entrance in Ebony

In the past few months there had been times when he had wondered if he had done the right thing. He was twenty-six years old, which was young by most people's standards; he was the same age as actors who were still cast as high school students. So he couldn't help but think he wasn't ready to be a father. Most men his age who had a kid either carried dewy eyed baby photos around in their wallets showing the baby off to anyone capable of using their eyes, or were the "oops" dads. He sighed, he of course was neither, leave it to him to go completely out of the usual cliques and adopt a ten-year-old girl. Now there was a creature he knew absolutely nothing about. Sure he had a few girlfriends back when he was a teen, but none of them lasted long enough to even attempt to understand the female psyche. If such a feat were even possible. She was more than a handful; she was enough to keep an army occupied. She disobeyed him, talked back, and never gave him a moment's rest while she was conscious. But he loved her, so he kept on trying. But today he seriously doubted his parenting abilities as he sat in the hallway outside the principal's office. He had seen Mrs. Farnsworth five times this month alone. Maybe if he hadn't adopted her she would be in the hands of a responsible, capable, experienced parent right now. He had no memories of his parents, just the matron at the orphanage where he was raised, and she was far from a model of good parenting. What was he thinking? He'd roped Gosalyn into a life where she would grow up in the hands of a bumbling fool. The office door opened and Mrs. Farnsworth called him in. He'd become quite familiar with the office and often caught himself deducing things about her by studying her decor. In past visits he'd been able to figure out how old she was, what her husband's job was, and that her favorite lunch was tuna salad. Today he noticed the brown hair that hung casually about her chin was in need of a touch up, he could clearly make out the gray.

"Good afternoon Mr. Mallard, I am sorry to call you in again so soon, but she's really done it this time." The tone in her voice told him that he wouldn't be able to negotiate with her today.

"Now what has she done?"

"Well, she set the science lab's rats loose in the girl's bathroom, glued the serving spoons to the wall in the cafeteria, and was caught playing baseball in the hallway with Honker Muddlefoot."

"Wow. She's been busy huh?" He said a bit taken back.

"Mr. Mallard I know she's really a good kid and I know you are doing all you can but I cannot let her go unpunished." There was sincerity in her voice that told him that she was being truthful. She really was a good kid… when she felt like being one.

"I understand. So what are we talking here, six months community service or twenty five to life?" He gave her what he thought was a charming smile.

"I'm afraid I'll have to suspend her. I've been too lenient in the past."

"Suspension! For how long?" He hadn't expected that.

"A week, perhaps she'll understand that these are actions that she must answer for. She's in detention over in room 413 you can go and pick her up now." To further the finality of her statement she opened the door for him to leave.

"There's no way I can talk you out of this?"

"You've negotiated with me before but this time it's final. Maybe you can talk some sense into her in the next week."

He stalked down the empty halls, his hands crammed in his jean pockets. He came to the door and rapped on the glass with his knuckles, the door opened and Gosalyn paraded out staring at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd enroll seeing as how I'm here all the time anyway."

"You don't want to go to school here. The student teacher ratio is horrendous and the food is quite distasteful." She smirked.

"Where do you hear this stuff?" He asked taken off guard, he shook his head, "You know what… I don't want to know. You're in real trouble this time."

"More detentions with Principal Farnsworth?" She groaned.

"No, you've out done my negotiation skills this time. You've been suspended."

For a second she looked upset but the concern melted into a bright smile. She started to dash down the hall toward the exit, with him striding behind her.

"Keen gear no school! For how long?"

"This isn't a reward! You're going to have this on your record forever!"

"Yeah sure Drake. They're going to deny my application to college because I was suspended in elementary school." She snorted.

"What will it take to get through to you?" He opened the outside door and led her to his motorcycle.

"A new video game would be a good start!" She teased.

He shoved a helmet on her head un-amused.

"Gos, I'm serious. You have to stop acting up at school. You tell me you will and than a few days later I get another phone call. I can't keep doing this." He strapped his helmet on and turned to her.

"Well maybe you'd just be better off with out me." She said bitterly.

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. I'm just no damn good and you wish you had never met me."

"Don't be ridiculous. You know I love you Gos. It's just… I'm not as good at this parenting thing as I thought I would be." He put a hand on her shoulder. "We can make this work, I know we can. You just need to bear with me okay? I need you to try and behave at school."

"I'm sorry Drake. I didn't mean to screw up your life." She sniffed loudly.

He picked her up, sat her on the back of the bike, and patted the helmet.

"Before I met you I didn't have a life to screw up. And you haven't ruined anything. I just want you to try harder. You are brilliant, down right the smartest girl I know. I just need you to focus okay?" He saw her eyes look up at him from behind the wind guard.

"I'll try."

"That's my girl." He smiled. He got the bike and it growled into action, her arms clasped tightly around his waist. Over the din he heard her shout.

"I take it the video game is still out of the question?"

The cool October wind swirled through the city. It was close to midnight now, and his patrol was pretty uneventful. He had left Launchpad to baby sit Gosalyn as he did every night. He really couldn't ask for a better best friend, and yet he felt guilty, like he was taking advantage of LP's kindness. He knew Launchpad was crazy about Gos, and they got along so well. LP had told him that he had tried to adopt Gosalyn when he was missing, and again he wondered if she would have been in better hands with him. He straightened out his fedora as he peered down at the streets. Since his bout with Bushroot almost half a year ago he hadn't seen much action. There were petty crimes but nothing too taxing or dangerous. His bones had fully healed, and he was secretly hoping for a real challenge apart from parenthood Maybe he'd call it a night, get up early and spend the day with his delinquent daughter. Just as he agreed to do so, a far below a car caught his attention. He stared at it, it wasn't really a car it was a hearse. He felt drawn to it, like he was being pulled by an invisible string towards it, he entertained the hunch to follow it. There was an urgency in the way the driver weaved recklessly in and out of the passing cars. It swerved through traffic building speed; he struggled to keep up with it along the rooftops. It careened off the main road and bolted through the side streets purposefully. Just when he thought he would need to catch his breath and loose it, the hearse screeched to a halt. He watched keenly as an assortment of passengers departed from their morbid vehicle, all decked out in black robes. They were impossible to make out from this high up, so he repelled to a lower balcony and saw them approach a classy, expensive door. It hardly surprised him when the largest figure punched a hole in the glass pane. It was time to foil an other petty crime he told himself and loaded a canister into his gun. He steadied his aim and fired.

He cut through his familiar blue smoke with a burst of excitement and confidence he couldn't quite explain. He'd always enjoyed this but tonight was different, he felt a surge of power that was unmatched by anything he'd ever felt before. He could take anything they could throw at him…or so he thought. He came to shrouded figure that broke the window and the face he saw damn near made him fall over backwards. A great gnarled wolf's face was under the hood with… a duckbill where the snout should have been. Regardless he delivered a well-placed sweep kick to the beast and as the smoke began to clear he saw the other members of the motley ensemble. He found himself surrounded by faces that belonged in the movies Gosalyn watched on Midnight Monster Madness. The wolf duck got slowly, and angrily, to his feet. A strong voice boomed from beside him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

"I could ask you the same question…" Dark turned to the macho voice to see a small rat with huge muscles protruding through his robe a few feet away from him.

"This has got nothin' to do with you. Leave now if you know what's good for you." Growled the rodent.

"I'm afraid that isn't happening tonight short stuff. No crime will go unpunished under the watch of Darkwing…" something slid around his ankles and pulled him down hard to the cement. His eyes bolted to his captor as he skid along the cracked sidewalk. A large pink tongue had encircled a large portion of his legs and was dragging him toward the jaws of what looked like a giant frog. He grabbed for another canister but was stopped by a mismatched pair of hands. His hands were yanked above his head and bound tightly together by a creature that looked to be sewn together pieces of cadavers. A brutal tug of war sensation came over him.

"You should have listened…" said the sympathetic voice of the monster. "..get a better grip Queenie or he'll wiggle free."

The tongue wrapped itself all the way up around his torso crushing the wind out of him, white lights floated around in front of his eyes. The patchwork creature let him go and he shot toward his digestive doom.

"STOP!"

Everything froze… literally. The wind stopped, sound stopped, everything stood still and silent, he couldn't move even if he wanted too and judging by the hush neither could anyone else. His heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest, the tongue was unbearably constricting him. Suddenly there came the unmistakable sound of high heels approaching and the tongue released him from it's gooey grasp. He was restored his mobility and he painfully scrambled to his feet, where he saw her. There were only a few times he could recall being completely speechless and this one blew the rest of them away. She stood only a foot away from him in a black silk form-hugging gown that accented her perfect hourglass figure. Her long black hair hung loosely around her face and was highlighted with two shockingly white strips that ran through it. Her blazing green eyes were hypnotizing and upon him, the gaze made his face burn. He couldn't believe this woman was real… was it possible for any living creature to be that beautiful? He stood there like a fool staring at her.

"Who are you?" Her voice was deep and sultry.

"I am Darkwing Duck…" he pulled himself together, "…are you connected to these…"

She placed a small soft hand on his bill and time unfroze itself. All the unnatural faces contorted in shock at the sight of her.

"Darkwing Duck?" She smiled as she thoughtfully repeated his name.

"Mistress!" Shrieked the giant frog. "But how…"

The sound of police sirens screamed toward them. Darkwing could do nothing but return her piercing stare. There was something… he felt funny. The feeling didn't last long however for he received a kick to the side that toppled him. He heard her cry out in surprise and he wheezed as he sat up to see the were-duck shoving her into the back of the hearse. Her eyes were on him until she was gone. His hands were still bound, he was sticky with saliva, and his beak still tingled where she had touched it, and he was still unsure of what had just happened. The red and blue lights were getting closer. He managed to break the black rope and grappled to the rooftop before St. Canard's finest arrived.

In the hearse the woman turned in her seat when she could see him no longer. She held the hand that touched him and looked around at her comrades. The were-duck turned to her as they escaped the last patrol car.

"Mistress you're alright? But how?" He saw the frailty returning to her.

"Don't worry… this was a bad idea. I'll get it myself tomorrow." She closed her eyes and smiled lightly. "Darkwing Duck….hmmm?" She said dreamily to herself as her head drooped into sleep.

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

This story is © Christina Smith


	2. Chapter 2

-Chapter Two-

Mistress Macabre's Marvels

When he returned to the house it was well past two. Launchpad had fallen asleep in the guest room and Gosalyn slept half hanging off her bed, her face upon an open comic book. He had changed clothes at the headquarters and he was still sore from the kick and prickly in the bill. He pushed her so she lay all the way on the mattress and peeled the book out from under her. He felt drained; he had since that woman touched him. Gosalyn stirred and rolled over kicking her legs over the side of the bed again. He shook his head and sighed. He blinked thickly as he went into the hall. The house was dark and quiet, he lingered in the hallway unable to shake the daze that he was slipping into. He must just be over tired, he convinced himself as he made his way to his bedroom. There wasn't much in his room, a dresser where he kept his "leisurely" wardrobe, a lamp, and a bed. He had no pictures, no mirrors, this room felt more like a guest room, and he often felt as if he was a guest here too as opposed to being the owner. He just didn't spend enough time here to feel any other way. He collapsed onto the mattress face first. He closed his eyes and he could see her again. She was burned onto his eyelids and he could still feel the pull of her green eyes. Who was she? Somehow he knew he'd see her again… what was it that made it more than a hopeful thought. It was all so strange, he couldn't shake this weariness, and he was rather embarrassed at how he conducted himself around her. Why was she with those…creatures and why were they breaking into that house? His thoughts drifted off and he fell into sleep.

He jolted awake when someone pounced on him. Groaning he opened his eyes and felt the throbbing pain in his head. Gosalyn sat on his chest staring at him.

"Late night?" She smiled. She was in a long nightshirt and her red hair stuck out wild and unruly all over her head. He groaned once again in response and put a hand over his achy eyes. He had been having dreams about the woman he heard being called "mistress". The kind of dreams that aren't appropriate to conjure let alone dream. But the oddest thing was he wasn't himself. In fact he had been multiple men, some were just having friendly discussions with her, about things he had no idea about. It was like he wasn't really there at all. The last one he could remember was the guy saying something about a ring.

"Well it's noon and Launchpad called you out of work when he couldn't wake you up. So are you going to sleep all day or what?" Gosalyn slid off his chest and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm up…. I'm up." He flinched as he sat up, God, this was a killer headache. She put a cold hand on his forehead.

"Hmm… you're not sick. So… Drake I've been thinking…. We should go out today! A little bonding time you know?"

"What did you have in mind that doesn't involve jumping out of a plane or bungee jumping?" He rubbed the stiffness out of his neck and noticed he'd slept in his clothes. Her eyes twinkled.

"Does the Thunderquack count as a plane? Or we could always go swimming with sharks…" She laughed at the distraught look on his face. She held up a page from the newspaper for him to read. The black and white ad made him want to curl up under the covers and sleep for the next week. "Ringling Beagles Circus is in the city can we go PLEASE?"

Twenty-three "no's" and a fist full of aspirin later he found himself being dragged along the flashing game tents and rickety rides. The place smelt of the bigger farm animals, which was fitting because hay was the carpeting of choice. It was packed with children that should have been in school (who were entirely too loud), not to mention there were an awful lot of well dressed business men there too, which he thought odd. Gosalyn wasn't concerned however, she had already won some "beautiful" sawdust filled prizes at games of skill, if milk cans ever rose against a person and being well trained in the art of knocking them down with baseballs was a useful skill to flaunt she would be set. He was stuck carrying the bizarre creatures as she make short work of a seven-dollar batch of cotton candy. They had sat through a bunch of acts, he couldn't remember much apart from holding his pounding head. He did remember seeing people on the trapeze, and a bear in a tutu, neither of which he really wanted the memory of. He couldn't take much more of this, he wanted to go home and sleep off this pain. An elegant looking man in a tail coat pushed hurriedly past him, now that he noticed it there was quite a lot of men in this back area of the circus grounds. A sticky hand gripped his in excitement.

"Oooh Drake! A freak show! Can we go?" She pointed ahead hopping up and down.

"Aghh…." He began but his weary mind wrapped itself around what she said. "Freak show?" The giant frog, the cadaver-man, the small strong man, and the were-duck… could it really be that simple? His eyes followed her finger to a large black tent that was just ahead. Large posters hung from the outside and the faces from last night stared somberly back at him. Each poster was emblazoned with the phrase "Mistress Macabre's Marvels." To her delight he agreed.

She ran ahead of him into the dark tent. A big crowd was collected inside; there were people everywhere standing, because there was nowhere left to sit. She stood up on her tippy toes and could see the edge of a large stage. She saw an empty bail of hay to her left and made her way to it. Just when she went to stand on it a glittering, transparent butterfly swirled around her head. In awe she reached up to touch it and it delicately shattered into sparkles. This was amazing! She couldn't believe Drake was taking so long! She hopped up on the hay and her eyes traveled along the swarming butterflies to the stage where they were originating. A pretty duck stood on center stage her eyes closed and her mouth moving slightly, the magic creatures curling out of her very fingers. Her hair had the color scheme of the Bride of Frankenduck, and she wore a blood red dress that hung off her shoulders. The crowd around her stared enchanted at the display; some eyes found the woman more entertaining than the trick, she noticed. Gosalyn couldn't help but notice how sad and tired the lovely lady looked. A burst of colored lights shot from the lady's fingers, the dancing light circled each butterfly and transformed them into hundreds of brilliantly colored, opaque birds. They dived gracefully over the crowd, a red one flew steadily toward the back of the tent and she saw Drake standing frozen at the tent's entrance, the bird staring him down. Had he seen the wonderful trick? She looked back at the stage through the breathtaking birds to the sorceress, she looked rather shocked at what she had just done. The members of the audience that were seated stood in an earsplitting ovation. The lady's surprise disappeared and she gracefully bowed. She snapped her fingers and there was a spark, the birds exploded into flower petals that showered down on them. Gosalyn felt Drake move in by her elbow, she kept her eyes on the sorceress not wanting to miss another spell. There was something different about her… she looked stronger, livelier than she had when Gosalyn had first seen her.

"Thank you!" Cried the lady on the stage over the dying applause. " Thank you all! So concludes our show. Please join us again!" She bowed again, her eyes were frantically skimming the audience, and they stopped next to Gosalyn. She turned to Drake and saw he was already returning the woman's gaze. The sorceress flicked her wrists dramatically. "On behalf of the Marvels and myself, Mistress Macabre, I wish you all good fortune and pleasant nightmares!"

There was an outburst of fire works and she was gone. The crowd clapped heartily and whistled loudly. When they finally caught on that there was to be no encore the throngs started to file out. Gosalyn sat on the haystack not wanting to attempt an exit with all the chatting people shoving, and pushing impatiently at each other, Drake joined her. She saw a lot of older men collecting at the foot of the stage talking excitedly and laughing loudly to one another. Now that she noticed it the crowd did contain a great number of men as well, magic wasn't the only reason they came the show she decided. Drake was quiet and his expression was unreadable. He was thinking something Darkwing-ish. The tent was almost empty now and the noise was softer.

"She was pretty, huh Drake?" She said with a smile. He looked at her coolly.

"Gosalyn I need you to wait here alright? If something happens just leave okay?" He stood up.

"What? What are you talking about?"

The crowd was gone save for the older rich looking men at the stage. Drake had seen the way the woman's magic had exploded when he set foot in the tent. The second he did those weak looking butterflies became vibrant birds; it was like he had triggered some sort of alarm. Then she had found him, searched him out in the faces of the crowd. There was no mistaking her, she was the woman from last night and he was going to have a few words with her. A curtain on the stage swept open and the lady walked back into sight. The men started shouting over each other pulling boxes out of their dress coats. Jewelry boxes and decadent candies were being held up for her. As he approached Drake caught a glint of a diamond necklace being brandished. It appeared "Mistress" was an appropriate name.

"Boys… Boys, I see you've heard about my wonderful company." She smiled at a portly bulldog that was quite foully drooling all over himself. "I'm sure you've also heard I thoroughly enjoy intellectual companions after my performances." She sat on the edge of the stage showing off a smooth calf. The hands closed in around her and Drake hung back, it would be impossible to question her in this. The Mistress fingered a jeweled brooch that was held up for her. "And my… you all are certainly eager to spend time with little old me. So who will I pick today… oh it's such a tough decision…" Her deep green eyes danced on to Drake and she smiled.

To his horror he felt a hand close around his wrist and yank it into the air as an all too familiar voice shouted over the slobbering aristocrats.

"Pick my Dad!"

"Gosalyn!" He hissed at her as he pulled out of her grasp. "What did I just tell you?"

"Your… father?" The woman spoke the word bitterly and the men surrounding her laughed obnoxiously. She looked kind of upset.

"He's single!" Gosalyn shouted at the nearest laughing man.

"Gos… please…" He grabbed her by the collar of the shirt as she took a swing at the laughing bulldog.

"I believe the lady Morgana said she wanted 'intellectual' company…" laughed the slobbering canine, "…not a dead beat dad and his loud little brat."

This time Gosalyn tried to restrain Drake; he grabbed the dog by the front of his well-pressed shirt.

"Now listen here 'friend' don't you ever insult my daughter…." He began in a menacing growl.

"That's enough!" The woman the dog had called Morgana was standing beside him. She eyed the pair of them thoughtfully, and then looked at Drake. "Mister….?"

He didn't answer; the look in her eyes told him she knew he was Darkwing. Apparently Gosalyn didn't see that

"Mallard!" Gosalyn chimed in. Morgana smiled at the little girl.

"Mr. Mallard, if you would please release him, I assure you he's not worth your trouble." Drake let the outraged millionaire free and she extended a hand to him. "Would you and your enchanting daughter care to join me backstage Mr. Mallard?"

"Keen gear! Would we!" Gosalyn grabbed Morgana's hand and pulled her toward the curtain. Hesitantly, Drake followed.

The glares of the hopefuls were fixed on him until he disappeared behind the curtain. The world behind the stage was dark and lit with eerie lanterns. There were curtained off sections of the big space that he knew to be the "stars'" quarters. In the center of the space a rickety table was set up. A group sat at the table, the familiar faces (mixed with a few new ones) followed them. Morgana was talking candidly with Gosalyn as she approached the table.

"Everyone this is Gosalyn Mallard. She'd very much like to meet all of you." She smiled kindly.

The were-duck, that had a mean kick, growled at the little girl. Drake fought the urge to attack the creature.

"Aren't you afraid of us terrifying monsters kid?" He snarled.

"Are you kidding? I live for this stuff! You guys are so awesome!" Gosalyn proclaimed ecstatically.

"Well it's nice to meet someone who thinks so." Laughed the cadaver duck. Then the good natured monstrosity launched into introductions. "I'm Viktor, 'the reanimated monster' as my poster says, that there is Talbot the were-duck, this is Lucy the Queen of the Frogs, though we just call her Queenie, that's Arnie the world's smallest strongman, then there's Sam the half man/half woman lion, and our ringleader the lovely sorceress Mistress Morgana Macabre. There's more of us but they're out at the moment."

"Wow! I'm Gosalyn and this is my dad Drake!"

So much for maintaining a secret identity, he groaned to himself. The eyes examined him but they did not see through him as Morgana had. Gosalyn with her unique charm quickly broke down the hesitant creatures and was making friends fast. Morgana held herself with a grace that made him recall his dreams, which made him even more uncomfortable. He stood taking in the scene, unsure of what would happen. Would they attack him if she revealed his secret? Would they use Gosalyn as bait? He was at a huge disadvantage and he hated it. When his eyes found their way back to Morgana she was already smirking at him.

"May I have a word with you in private… Drake was it?"

He didn't respond but followed her when she walked away. She led him to a thick curtain, which she pulled aside. The room beyond was dark, a rouge colored bed took up the far end, the center was occupied by an iron rod table and chairs with a clear crystal ball sitting on a gold eagle talon rested in it's center. There was a strong scent of incense that assaulted his brain; she held the curtain open as he walked in. She walked deeper into the room lighting candles with a point of a finger.

"Why do you hide your handsome face during the night?" She sauntered to the bed and sat delicately on the edge. He did not budge.

"I want you to leave Gosalyn out of this." He said firmly.

"Do you truly believe I would harm your beautiful daughter?" She said sounding genuinely hurt. "I imagine she looks like her mother?"

"She resembles her father and her mother quiet a lot actually. From what I remember anyway." He said flatly. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I'm afraid I'm a bit confused."

"Gosalyn is my adopted daughter."

"Oh," she flashed a dazzling smile, "…I see. Won't you please sit…. Um… what should I call you?" she laughed playfully.

"Listen. What do you want? You've got me out numbered and you've already proven yourselves to be more than I combat. So stop patronizing me!" He snapped.

"Well… how do you like that?" She said as she blinked at him. "I brought you back here to tell you that you've seduced me and you think I'm going to kill you? Darkwing darling, last night was not what it looked like. You must believe me. My friends were trying to get back something precious to me. It was taken from me and with out it my strength fades."

"You seem fine to me." His icy eyes were as cold as his voice. She sighed heavily.

"I promise I will never tell a soul your secret, so why don't you relax? I have something I want to tell you, I know it will sound ridiculous but I assure you it's true. It would just be so much nicer if you would please sit."

He couldn't help it. He wanted to trust her. It had to be how beautiful she was, and she had called him handsome. He had forgotten what a compliment that wasn't out of sarcasm could do, especially from a woman. Not that he was ever complimented by anyone near her radiance. After a moment he sat on one of the iron rod chairs. From her body language she had wanted him to sit beside her on the bed, but no matter how kindly she spoke to him he wouldn't allow himself to trust her so easily.

"What I am about to tell you is the essence of magic itself."

He had to hold in a groan. This was going to get interesting.

"When a witch or a wizard is born a true magic user, they draw their powers from an isolated personal magical source. For most they live their lives never finding or even knowing what this mystical hub is. They rely on a talisman of some kind that traps a reserve of this energy that was released when they were born. Then there are those who find their magical hub. Some come as animals, such as a cat, or others were an object like a sword or a stone, but it has also recorded that there were some that were in fact people." Her sparkling eyes held him captive, but could not dim his skepticism.

"Are you telling me that I'm this hub thing?" He heard the suspicion in his voice but by her enthusiastic nod she didn't mind.

"When we met last night didn't you feel it? We just had to be within feet of each other to have a reaction! There was a surge of energy in your case and a magic overflow in me! Then when we separated it was a serious withdrawal…. I can only imagine how ill you felt this morning. Was it like the intense symptoms of a hangover with out the alcohol consumption?" He fingered the aspirin bottle in his pocket vaguely. "But there's more, in all things, in every living creature there is a duality in the soul. You've probably heard of this before, certain people try to enhance one of the two essences for meditation, but they were meant for so much more! They're called Positrons and Negatrons. Negatrons are the negative force; they govern the world itself, restricting potential, grounding people with greed, egos, and hatred. Where Positrons enhance everything good and mystical, they guide the pure essence of life through us as they help us decide right from wrong. They intensify all that is good in this existence. So when a spell is being conjured the positrons try to create it, while the negatrons fight to repress it." She got off the bed and approached him with a dreamy smile. "You… are an exception." She looked so happy, like she was going to burst into tears, and she knelt at his feet. He shifted uncomfortably. "Darkwing Duck, Drake Mallard whoever you may be, you are made up almost entirely of positrons. I don't know how but there are an immeasurably small amount of negatrons conflicting with you!" Her hand reached toward his, he shot her a warning look and she paused. "May I show you that I haven't been lying?"

"The last time you touched me the tingling didn't stop for hours. Not to mention the…" He stopped. He didn't want to admit to the dreams.

"… the flashes of my memories? I'm afraid we imprinted each other. I was quite surprised myself to dream of an orphan who was…" she paused and met his eyes, "… treated so cruelly."

"What's to stop it from happening again?" He felt her warmth on his legs, it made his head swim.

"We're prepared now, you know as well as I do the effect we have on each other…" Her eyes peered serenely up at him.

He couldn't resist any longer. He felt his guard drop like a deep sigh, and surreal warmth crashed over him. He watched as her eyes rolled back slightly and she inhaled. The flames in the room shot up a foot and quickly returned to normality.

"You trust me?" She smiled up at him. "Can I see your hand?"

He turned his palm up and she gently placed her index and middle fingers in the center of his hand. A jolt shot through him and he bolted to his feet in alarm. He could feel every inch of him tingle like he'd been electrocuted. She stood up slowly, she was a good foot taller than him and in this light she seemed to glow. He felt something well up inside him, he pulled her close to him, felt the jolt again as she slid her arms around him. The candles suddenly extinguished themselves and he felt her lean in towards him.

"Oh Honeywumpus!" Intruded a loud voice from the other side of the curtain.

They froze and the flames re-ignited themselves. She was centimeters away and blushing.

"You can't go in there!" Cried the distraught voice of Viktor.

Drake mustered his strength and drew away from her. Her arms fell off him like wet noodles. He backed away from her and the curtain swung open. A lush bouquet of flowers entered the room followed by a balding duck with an unhandsome bulbous beak and large eyeglasses.

"Morgana my sweetest your lover boy is here!" He proclaimed.

Drake cleared his throat loudly pulling his wits about him, and the well dressed, obviously wealthy duck finally noticed him.

"I'll show myself out then Mistress Macabre, thank you for the palm reading. It was…. Interesting." He avoided looking at her. He slid through the swag and was confronted by the harsh unscented air outside her sanctum. He shuddered as the unnatural warmth left him and he felt a headache coming on. Viktor stood before him.

"You feeling alright Mr. Mallard?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'll be fine. I hope Gosalyn behaved for you." He couldn't put his finger on it, but he was sure he'd seen that man before.

"Oh she's a real stitch! I bet you're real proud of her!" Viktor started back toward the table. The way he walked complimented how he looked. He had and uneven step as if one leg was slightly longer than the other. Gosalyn was sitting on top the table entertaining the crew. A laugh erupted at her punch line and for a moment a person in a janitorial outfit came backstage.

"He got back here again!" Growled Arnie to the janitor. " Aren't you suppose to stop that from happening?" The janitor left with an angry flourish of the curtain. "I swear, I'm gunna have to break that guy's legs to keep him away from Morgana."

"Who is he?" Gosalyn piped in.

"Oh it's the one and only Reynold Tither, rich and nasty as they come." Said Sam with a shake of the head.

"No way! THAT was the owner of Quackerjack toys?" Squeaked Gosalyn.

"Yup. He's taken a real liking to Morgana…" started Queenie.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news but we have to go." Interrupted Drake. A choir of disappointed voices arose and after drawn out good byes they left the tent. They passed the janitor on the way out, he was in a far corner angrily sweeping.

"So Drake, you stud! Give me all the juicy details! Did you guys totally make out?" Gosalyn burst into question.

"There are no juicy details and nothing happened! AND I don't want to hear those words come out of your mouth ever again…"

"You really like her don't you dad?"

They stopped in the bustling fair grounds and he looked down at her.

"What's with all this 'dad' stuff all of a sudden?"

"I don't know it just kinds slips in there. I'll be more careful if you want." She said bashfully.

"Don't. I like it." He smiled. She grabbed his hand and with like a shot let go.

"YOW! You shocked me!"

"Huh? Oh…. Sorry."

A soft light from an old lantern lit the room just enough for its inhabitant to find what he was looking for. This place was his but it wasn't his home. He had made so many homes over the years and each he had to leave before he was satisfied. But this place with it's skyscrapers, dark alleys, and abandoned buildings… _this_ was the playground he dreamt of at night. This city was big and filled with children who needed to be reeducated. The mongrels ran around freely with their hand held gaming systems, their electronic doo dads and what nots. These things weren't toys. These things weren't fun, this was unacceptable. He pulled a faded polka dotted trunk out from under some riff raff. It was only a little dusty, it had the least amount of dust on it in this room, which was because he had used it more than anything else. He swung open the top and the familiar face smiled up at him, he was always so understanding. He never minded when he had to be hidden away from prying eyes, he was the best friend anyone could hope for. He smiled and sat in front of the trunk leaning in to chat with his favorite person in the whole world.

"Sorry you've been packed away so long Mr. Banana Brain, there hasn't been much chance for me to play lately."

"All work and no play makes Quackerjack a dull boy." Said the deranged looking Banana headed doll.

"I know, I know. You're the only one who seems to understand that. They all look at me like I'm wrong. They tell me what to do…"

"Not all of them."

Quackerjack stared at the doll.

"You know about that?"

"Of course I do. I'm not stupid." Sang the high-pitched voice. "But now even that one doesn't care… all they talk about it is _him_."

He felt so horrible. He thought he had done a good job keeping this foolish nonsense away from his dear friend, but he knew everything.

"I know. But what can I do? I've already done everything I could! All the others stopped apart from the ninny and this new one!" He whined.

"I think you know what to do. They're no better than the little monsters who destroy what we love."

"You're right." He shifted Mr. Banana Brain and pulled out the cowl made of dark black and red canvas. The large bells on the ends of the jester's cap jingled in a way that made him giddy. He smiled widely and held the cowl lovingly close.

"How do we find them Mr. Banana Brain? This city is bigger than a barrel of monkeys!"

"Maybe I can help." Said a dark voice from behind him.

His first instinct was to cower at the voice but he turned hesitantly. He felt his smile widen.

"Long time no see."

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

This story is © Christina Smith

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Wooo. Long Chapter. Sorry about the length but I couldn't interrupt it and then start in the middleof it in a new chapter... it just wouldn't feel right. Sorry about the long winded magic explaination too but that part is important. ;) Okay I'm done apologizing... you go rest your eyes. :3 And yes next chapter will have ACTION to make up for all this yappin.


	3. Chapter 3

-Chapter Three-

Play time

The rain pounded down in thick sheets, streaming through every crack and impurity of the looming city. People below, be they night owls or just dishonest, rushed along under umbrellas and newspapers, or some just running in hopes of dodging the falling droplets. The Audubon Bay Bridge sparkled in the distance a few specks of headlights whizzed across it. He had perched on a partly sheltered ledge on a well-positioned office building. The rain had soaked him through his cape, jacket, turtleneck, and had made a soggy mess out of his steel-toed boots. His head was pounding, and he was convinced there wasn't enough aspirin in the world to dent this headache. Streams ran off his fedora and dripped onto his bill. It was another quite rainy night, which usually meant that the plots had taken a night off or had scurried indoors. He shifted and a puddle slid off his cape and off over the ledge. He sighed, earlier he had called in a personal vacation for this week to accommodate Gosalyn's house arrest, and the way he felt right now he was glad he did. He kept waiting for his skull to split straight down the middle, this pain it was beyond uncomfortable. This was ridiculous.

He drew a shiny black wide barreled gun and it quickly started dripping with rainwater. He loaded a grappling hook; he would call it quits early tonight… he was in no condition to do much of anything, apart from scowl, of course. He stood and water cascaded down his elegant ensemble to the distant street below. He aimed and pulled the trigger; the hook soared to the adjacent building and clattered onto a fire escape. With a graceful landing he began to descend to the alley where his favorite motorcycle dubbed the "Rat catcher" sat waiting for him. He mounted it, threw his hat into the sidecar and pulled out a helmet. He didn't want to cram his pounding head into it but it had a visor and that would stop the rain from pummeling his face. Gosalyn would get on his case if he didn't wear it as well, but he told himself she had nothing to do with it. He didn't believe it. He tried no to think about her out here. He tried to separate Darkwing from Drake completely, but lately it wasn't working. He couldn't let any information slip about Gosalyn or Launchpad out here, who knows what a vengeful thug, or S.H.U.S.H. agent would do with that knowledge. The headlights ignited and the engine roared as he sped out into the empty road. He knew the unrelenting pain of loneliness, he had been isolated for far too long, and now over these last few months he had found a happiness he had lost. When he was home he hadn't been left alone for longer than fifteen minutes, she was pulling Drake out of Darkwing and giving him a life that was his own. Not a justice seeking flapping terror, but a man who had to be kind and firm to someone who loved him for no real reason. It was something he had never imagined he'd be able to have. He was pulled out of his thoughts when his headlights fell upon a figure in the middle of the street ahead.

What the hell was it? He squinted through the streaking water on the visor and he saw what it was wearing. A jester hat? The figure spun in place, this jester had on a blindfold and was hopping around madly. Darkwing was quickly approaching the strange person, as he closed in he saw the bat. He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late, the jester had already swung at him. Darkwing caught the blow to the head and was knocked from his bike. He lay on his back in a puddle, staring dully at the spinning city around him through the cracked glass of his helmet. His neck shrieked in pain, the headgear had, luckily, taken the full force of the blow. A jingling sound grew near and the jester stood over him. Now fully visible Darkwing would take in the details of this madman. He was indeed wearing a black and red jester's hat with large bells attached to the dangling long ends, along with a straight jacket that he had gotten his arms free of, the long sewn shut sleeves dragged through the water collected on the street one still had a padlock clamped on the end, belts and fishnet stockings covered his calves while above that puffed out black pants completed the clown asylum look. He peeked out from under the blindfold.

"Oh I win!" He cackled gleefully and threw the bat.

The jester squatted next to Dark, his smiling face hanging over him. He had bucked teeth, the sort that lived in gag shops, used mainly by students to annoy their teachers. The most frightening thing about this creature was his eyes. Pigment less, solid white, and it looked as if his pupils had shattered leaving black shards hanging in odd places. Madness looked at him through those eyes and spoke his name.

"Darkwing Duck…" chuckled the jester, "…are you dead? Do you think we killed him Mr. Banana Brain?"

The jester held up a morbid looking stuffed toy with a mangled banana head and a face that eerily resembled its owner. He spoke again but this time in a high pitched voice and shoved the doll in Dark's face.

"No he's still alive. Though soon he'll wish he wasn't!" He sang, and then laughed. It was the kind of unbridled laughter that echoed off asylum walls and made you doubt your own sanity. A shudder built up inside him, but he would not let it escape. He couldn't show any weakness. He had to hang tight until he saw the opportunity to strike back.

" Yes, yes, Mr. Banana Brain too true." He wiped a tear from his ghastly eye, still chuckling to himself. "Darkwing I wanted to tell you to stay out of my way," he leaned over him, the bells jingling. "You see I have a play date with this city, and I will not tolerate you bullying me. Consider this fair warning, you stay out of my way and I won't get in yours. Though I already know you're too pushy to just let me have my fun." He pouted.

"Who the hell are you?" Dark growled up at him, this seemed to please the crazed clown beyond words.

"Who the hell am I?" He grinned. "You mean to tell me that I took all the time to catch up on all you've been up to and you have no idea who I am?" The milky white eyes flashed. He grabbed Darkwing by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him off the wet cement, close to his face, the rotten breath swarming over him like locusts. He narrowed his horrific eyes and said in a new voice lower and serious as the grave. "I am Quackerjack, and soon everyone will know me. I'll be in every child's nightmares and on every news report. But I'll be sure to haunt you more than anyone else Darkwing." He let Dark go and he fell heavily back onto the wet road. He pulled the doll out again. "And of course you've all ready met Mr. Banana Brain…." He said in an airy civilized manner. A grim smile split his face and he burst into the evil laughter. "Saint Canard… IT'S PLAYTIME!"

This was it. Darkwing swung a steel-toed foot right into Quackerjack's chest sending him tumbling backwards. He flipped himself up and felt the pounding pain in his head. Quackerjack lay still on the pavement, Dark straightened up. Had he knocked him out with one hit? He felt the pride surge up inside him at the thought, but it was eradicated when he heard the distant sound of sirens approaching and Quackerjack started laughing.

"What's so funny Cabbage Patch?" He spat bitterly. Quackerjack shot up and venomously snarled back at him.

"It's Quackerjack! And I was wondering what St. Canard's finest would do if they found vigilante Darkwing Duck hanging from a lamp post by a jump rope." He giggled dementedly.

"Who'd put me there? You Paddycake?" Darkwing started reaching for his gun.

"Oh no, no, no. I'm afraid Mr. Banana Brain and I have a busy day ahead of us. We can't keep you company tonight." He shook the doll and two small capsules "plunked" into a puddle. Darkwing pulled out the gun.

"You're not going anywhere chuckles!" He fired at the smiling figure and blue smoke covered every inch of the road before him. He didn't hesitate, he ran full throttle into the haze, his keen blue eyes cut through the curling mist, he had trained his sight at length for this. The rain would cut his window in half so he had to get to there quick. His target stood in the same place before him; something slithered at the jester's feet. The rain had begun to triumph over the smoke and through the thinning fog he could see the creatures. Quackerjack stroked a strange looking animal, it was a solid green tiger, and a bright red octopus writhed about his feet.

"Aren't they fun? I customized them myself." A crazed smile stretched across Quackerjack's face and he crouched down between the giant living sponge capsule animals. "Go have fun kids. Why not start with him?" He was using the deep voice again, his eyes flashed and Mr. Banana Brain spoke up.

"Yeah kill Darkwing Duck. He's a piñata! Tear him apart! Break him into tiny pieces! WHACK WHACK! And spill the candy out all over the road!" Quackerjack laughed and the strange monsters started to approach Darkwing. The rain only fueled their size and he watched them swell bigger than him. A porous, dripping, tentacle flew at him. He tested a swing; it connected with a "squelch". Hand to hand would be no good against them. The tiger pounced at him and he leapt out of the way. Darkwing had to think quick and move quicker to dodge the paws and tentacles swarming him, these creatures looked laughable but he knew they could crush him or if they preferred, drown him. He needed a plan and fast.

"Bye Bye Darkwing! If you happen to out live my children say hi to the coppers for me!" Quackerjack cackled maniacally as he disappeared down a dark alley.

"Oh no you don't!" Dark attempted to follow but got nailed in the bill by a saturated tentacle, knocking him off course. He cursed under his breath as the dodged the other seven appendages trying to crash down upon him. The sirens were getting closer, and the sound kick started his brain. The grappling hook closed around them before he could think out his actions. With extraordinary force he pulled the writhing creatures together. It wouldn't hold them long. Pulling his cape up over his head to block out the rain, he pulled the lighter out from a pouch on his belt. It had been the property of a thug named Hammerhead Hannigan, it had saved him once and he had managed to hang onto it. He hoped it would help him out again. Quickly he flicked a flame into life and hastily secured it to a gas grenade canister. He slid the end of it into his gun, and aimed.

"Suck gas." He fired.

The rain was merciful and kept the flame lit. As he had hoped the canister exploded on impact with the sponge creatures. The concussion shattered the windows in the general area, and flung him violently like a rag doll through the air. When he regained himself he was tangled in a mound of clothes in a store that had over seen the conflict. He winced as he felt the shards of glass biting into his skin. The fire burned outside the broken window, and the sirens sang closer than ever. He was still in hot water; the police were very intolerant of vigilantes, this one in particular. He collected himself the best he could and through his vision blurred with agony, he noticed the blood that coated the clothes he had landed on. He staggered to his feet, reached around to his back, and yanked a large chunk of glass out. He would deal with rest of them later, he climbed through the shattered storefront window, still glad he hadn't taken off his helmet. The rain had already begun to extinguish the fire and his foes were nothing more than melted colorful spots on the pavement. He bolted to the rat catcher as the red and blue lights reflected off the wet road. He managed to get it right side up and with a bit of hydroplaning fled the scene. The police were left with nothing but the confusing aftermath.

His pain was threatening to black him out, but his rage was stronger. Quackerjack huh? If he was right it wasn't a very clever alias, he silently fumed. Everything swirled together in a whirlpool of anger and anguish; he had an idea of who might be behind this whole thing. And his wounds would have to wait as he went to go sort things out.

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

This story is © Christina Smith

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Okay. So I am once again stranded with out a working computer (I'm neglecting my Computers Lecture to upload this…. I know I'm bad.) So I will try to upload whenever I can. Thanks to all who have reviewed so far, it really means a lot to me. So this may be the last one for a while so hoped you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Out of the frying pan.

The luxurious apartment rose in front of him, the rain streaming down its architecture. Darkwing couldn't feel anything, his movements were propelled by his anger, he glowered at the building. He had been here the night before, this place had seemed like he had seen it before. He knew why now. This was the residence of the kingpin of toys, Reynold Tither. He peeled the helmet off his head and the rain mixed with the blood, making sticky red rivers pour off his face. Standing here now his head gearing to explode in pain and hatred, he recalled the images he had been imprinted with. Morgana's "companions"… one of them was this man. Darkwing had been in Tither's shoes when he was awoken, and now near collapse he recalled the millionaire boasting about a ring. He growled under his breath as he climbed off the rat catcher, the ring was hers. The home of Reynold Tither, the president and owner of the world famous Quackerjack toys, was about to be invaded by a very hostile intruder. A light was on in the third floor bedroom, the silhouette of his prey passed before it. He had already seen that room from the scum's own eyes; he knew the layout like it was blueprinted before him. He fired a grappling hook onto the roof.

Reynold stood with his back to the window. He had done it. He would get her tonight. The sultry Morgana was at his beck and call while he had her ring, he had summoned her here into his bedroom, and the next step was into his bed. He loosened his tie, her vivid green eyes glaring at him.

"My dear, don't look at me like that. It is a simple exchange, and I assure you it will not be unpleasant." He sneered at her.

"Everything about you is unpleasant!" She snarled. He sized her up carefully, the black and white gown she wore would have to be the first thing to go, he decided.

"Morgana," he cooed. "I'm sure you are aware that you have no choice. With out your ring your little magic act will fail. You won't be able to use your magic with out the trinket. You and your 'marvels', as you call them, would be thrown out and what would become of you then? But a bit of indulgence with me and not only will you have your ring back, but you will have lived out your deepest darkest fantasy, not to mention had a taste of the best lover in the world." He gloated as pulled the tie off over his head.

"I would rather die than succumb to the likes of you!"

"I will have you either way." He grinned and turned to close the curtains.

What happened instead was the window shattered inwards as he quickly stepped out of the way of the flying glass. A soggy, black-gloved fist clobbered him. He heard Morgana shriek and his assailant's strong hands seized him by the throat and lifted him off the floor.

"Who is Quackerjack?" Roared the black masked intruder.

"W…what are you….?" He gasped.

The costumed duck's scowl deepened and with a single fluid movement slammed him against the now pane-less window frame. The mallard shoved him down and forced his torso to hang outside the window with one hand, the rain splashed in his eyes.

"Don't play dumb with me! The clown in the straight jacket, the one that named himself after your corporation!" Snarled his attacker, the only visible part of this man was his ice blue eyes. Though they were such a cool pigment they burned hotter than any flame.

"I.. I don't know…" He choked, his hands desperately trying to grasp the frame, if this maniac let him go he'd fall to his death. The eyes stayed on him, like they could see inside his mind. A maddening fear fought to consume him, he was soaking wet now and anticipating his inevitable fall. The masked mallard's eyes were finally hidden as he thoughtfully blinked. When his eyes reappeared the man's other hand grabbed Reynold by the front of the shirt.

"For your sake you better not be lying to me Tither." The caped figure dragged him back into the room and threw him to the floor. "And give Ms. Macabre her ring back… now."

"Please… please don't hurt me." he sobbed as he stumbled to his feet.

"Get it and give it to her, and you will bypass the emergency room tonight." Threatened the gravely voice, and Tither scampered into the next room.

"Dark… what happened to you?" She finally gasped.

His eyes slid onto her and she felt the surge build up again. He was covered in his own blood but carried himself as if he suffered no more than a paper cut. Her knight in shining… well, bloodied black fabric, did not respond. Her heart beat faster just having him so close, she felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she remembered how close they had been to kissing that very afternoon. If they had would any of this had happened? Tither scrambled back into the room blubbering, thick tears rolling down his pathetic face as he held the ruby ring out to Darkwing. Dark stared at it.

"Don't give it to me you idiot!" He growled, and obediently Reynold shoved the ring into her hand. She slipped it snugly back onto her finger, the remains of her weariness vanishing.

"There!" Squealed the sobbing man. "I've done it! Now you said you wouldn't hurt me!"

"I only said I wouldn't send you to the emergency room." Darkwing sneered at the balding duck, who broke into a fresh wave of tears.

"P…please! Please no!"

"That's enough! I want you to understand something right here and now you sack of shit." Spat Darkwing. "The day I find out you are involved with that madman will be your last." Tither's shaking voice rose in inaudible pleas, which Darkwing had to shout over. " And if you ever…. EVER, go near Ms. Macabre again you will have to answer to me. Do I make my self perfectly clear?"

"Yes! Yes! Have mercy!" Screamed the pathetic millionaire.

"Good." A swift fist silenced the sobs and Tither fell over unconscious onto the floor. Darkwing turned his attention to her again. "You better go. I set off all kinds of alarms with my entrance."

"Thank you." She could feel the happy tears build up in her eyes.

"You just hang onto that ring." He swayed slightly and turned in preparation to exit through the broken window.

"Dark wait! Let me help you! My magic can heal your wounds!" She rushed to him.

"Maybe another time Morgana, for now get as far away from here as you can before the police show up." He leaned out into the rain and grabbed the rope of his grappling hook. She gripped a fist full of his cape, pulled him towards her, and kissed his cheek softly.

"Please be more careful Dark darling." She begged him.

"I… I'll try." He stammered caught off guard. The soaked fabric slid out of her hand and he disappeared into the rain.

The nights when he really needed to sleep in peace, the times he needed to recuperate, the most exhausting and challenging of this days his nightmare would come. Tonight was no different. It was so familiar, he'd been having this dream for as long as he could remember, which was from around the age of eight. There was blankness in his mind from anytime before that, and the first thing he could remember was being left at the orphanage by an older duck. Time had blurred his features, and no matter how Drake tried to remember nothing came. And it was at the orphanage that the dreams started. He was alone in the dark, blood coating his hands. Silence pressed in around him, and a blinding flash of white burned his eyes. There were extremely tall people dressed in white surrounding him, and they ushered him to a doorway. Beyond that door was a long hallway; one he knew he had to walk down. Every time he set foot here he heard voices call out from either side of him. The asylum was loud and the inmates were all shouting out to him. These voices were from people he had met all throughout his life. They called to him through their cell doors, assaulting him, insulting him, some pleading with him. As always he stepped into his open cell, the door ominously slammed behind him, the locks scraped into place. And there before him, as he always was, stood his cell mate. Standing in the shadows, all Drake could see was the blood dripping off his hands. No matter where he moved in the cell the shadow would not lift off this person. His cellmate put the bloody fingers in his mouth, and Drake shuddered.

It was time for him to wake up. He had always woken up at this part. The madman before him would open his mouth to speak and Drake would open his eyes in the real world.

"So you've been busy I see?" Said his companion civilly.

Drake just stood there dumbfounded. The shadowed duck cracked his neck.

"Not feeling talkative Drake? That is what you call yourself nowadays isn't it?"

"Who are you?"

"How's the kid? What's her name again, Gosalyn? It's so cute that you've become a daddy. So cute, in fact, that I have to fight the urge to vomit."

"Where are we?" Drake wasn't going to waste his time talking to this dream person about the present. This place, this asylum, he knew it had to do with his past. He had to figure this out.

"Right where I want you. But I can see you're not in the mood to talk to me. Besides daddy's little girl is waiting for you."

Drake awoke with the weak sunlight in his eyes, the sound of rain in his ears, and Gosalyn sleeping on top of the sheets next to him. He blinked dully and looked around. He hadn't made it back to the house last night, he had passed out on the bed at the Audubon Bay Bridge hideout. Which he did only after he had managed to fish out the glass, there were a few he had to have Launchpad dig out for him. It was odd, after he had left Tither's house the pain was lessened and he could pluck out the shards without feeling the pain. It was like Morgana's kiss was a shot of morphine. She swam through his tired mind, last night she was in a horrific situation, and yet she was still breathtaking. He sighed heavily and felt the bruises protest against movement. He didn't want to admit it or even allow it, but he was falling for her, hard and fast. Why did he always have to make things more complicated? The sky outside was gray and the sun slid behind thick black clouds. He forced himself into a sitting position and could tell her magic was wearing off. Magic, he thought bitterly to himself. He had never believed in it before, in fact he wasn't sure he bought it now. He also wasn't confident in what she had told him either, all this talk of him being the source of her power and whatnot. Sure he felt what she had described to him but she could have fabricated a story to cover a spell on him. Was that what was happening? Had she cast a love spell on him? His head pounded. And was she only concerned for him because of his "magical potency"? He exhaled loudly and put his throbbing head in his hands. Gosalyn sat up rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Oh good," she yawned, "… you're not dead."

"No not yet anyway." He mumbled.

"So, ya gonna rest today?" She asked with a hint of ulterior motive in her voice.

"Probably should…" His brain processed her tone. "Why?" He saw the bike helmet in the corner. It had a giant dent and deep cracks running through it. Whoever Quackerjack was, he was strong.

"Oh, no reason." She lied with a sweet smile.

"What did you volunteer me for, young lady?" He said flatly.

"Well, I maybe, kinda sorta, told Honker that you'd take us to Chunky Charlie's." She fluttered her eyelashes. He groaned.

"Gosalyn, I hate that place. It's like, a monument to annoyance. Can't you cancel?"

"Dad, I did get poor Honk suspended. He was the only one willing to be the pitcher in the ball game…."

"The one you had in the hallway?"

"… Yeah. That and he told me what glue would work the best on the lunch lady's spoons…"

"The ones you stuck to the wall?"

"That's them! Oh and he…"

"I think you've made your point." He sighed.

"So I gotta make it up to him some how! Maybe Mr. Muddlefoot could come along and keep you company."

Drake shuddered. Herb Muddlefoot had to be the most infuriating being ever created. The guy was as dumb as he was big, not to mention loud enough not only to wake the dead but also sell them the Quackerware 32 piece starter set through the crypt door. Quite honestly he'd rather deal with a pit of scorpions. Very, VERY angry scorpions, with laser beams grafted to their stingers. Now that he thought about it, the only Muddlefoot he did like was Honker. He was brainy little guy, with the kind of intelligence that would land him on S.H.U.S.H.'s payroll for sure. He was quiet, reserved, and hung around Gosalyn like a shadow. He was pretty pleased that Honker was her best friend; he couldn't take another kid like Gos helping her in her crazed schemes. Really he wasn't sure where the kid got it from, he certainly didn't take after either of his parents. Binky Muddlefoot was a housewife seemingly stuck in the forties, always in a dress, apron, matching high heels, eternally painfully pleasant, and dumb as a brick. The oldest son, Tank was a mean little bugger. He was half muscle, half lard and to complement his physique he had the brainpower of a dust bunny. The very idea of having to deal with any Muddlefoot that wasn't Honker was almost worse than a headache ten times more severe than he was currently nursing.

"Can't you and Honker just play at the house?"

"Yeah right. What's special about that? We do that everyday." She grumbled.

"Gos, I don't want to go."

"You'd go if Morgana asked you to."

"What?" He looked at her and she frowned at him, her arms crossed. "What are you even talking about?"

"Oh come on! I know you like her." She smirked at him.

" I don't trust her as far as I throw her!" He flared.

"Ah… but you don't have to trust her to **_love her_**…" She mocked as she made loud kissy noises.

"I do not love her!" He shrieked as he stood up painfully. She was being manipulative and he was not going to give in. She would say whatever it took to get her way, but she had said the very thing he was trying so hard to deny. And it made him mad. "I am not going to Chunky Charlie's and that is FINAL!"

Two hours and three aspirin later Drake pulled into St. Canard's biggest Chunky Charlie's. Gosalyn quickly bolted out of the car while Honker carefully removed himself. He was only a little shorter than Gosalyn; he had large round red glasses, and usually wore a green shirt. Drake looked out the windshield, the rain had not let up, it was pouring and the bright yellow building before him seemed quite eerie against the gray, wet city it sat in. Gosalyn yanked his door open and tugged excitedly on his arm.

"Come on Whiffle Boy isn't playing itself in there!" She cried happily and he got stiffly out of the car.

"Thanks a lot for bringing us Mr. Mallard." Came Honker's nasally voice.

"Don't mention it." He locked the car and walked through the heavy rain, the children running enthusiastically in front of him. There were a lot of cars in the parking lot, crammed was an appropriate term he decided. That meant that the noise inside would be deafening. His eyes traveled away from the impending doom of "family themed fun" to the drowned city. He could just make out the flashing lights of a slew of police cars trying to get through traffic way down the street. The Darkwing in him wanted to follow them, to find out what was up, but Gosalyn was impatiently calling him from the entrance.

"Hurry up we haven't got all year Dad!" She yelled.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." He grumbled. He put his hand on the yellow cheese shaped doorknob and pulled it open. Gosalyn tried to run past him but he shot out his hand and caught her.

"Hey! What's the big idea!" She shouted angrily.

He held her still. It was quiet. Save for a few odd sounding dings and plinks of the video game machines, it sounded like they were all breaking down. Not a single scream or laugh met their ears. Gosalyn looked up at him.

"There were tons of cars outside… what does it mean?" She whispered.

"It means something is wrong. Honker you and Gos go back to the car…" He glanced at the little boy; he was pale as a ghost.

"But Dad you can't…." Gosalyn clung to his arm. He didn't want to hear what he couldn't do. He was about to reassure her, give her a knowing wink and send her safely away when…

"Yeah **_Dad _**you can't keep all the fun for yourself!"

The voice hit him like a brick wall, his eyes locked onto the all too familiar figure standing at the end of the hallway.

"You're all late." Smiled Quackerjack in his freshly blood stained costume. "The party was just ending, but we can accommodate the fashionably late can't we Mr. Banana Brain?" His voice was terrifyingly peaceful and he was jingling toward them slowly.

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney


	5. Chapter 5

-Chapter Five-

Muse for the Maniac

Drake stared on in stunned silence, was this really happening? The grin on the morbid face was growing closer, the banana doll was smiling on his shoulder, and Gosalyn's grip was painfully tight on his arm. This was real. He found his voice.

"Run."

"But…" Gosalyn gripped his arm tighter.

"I said RUN!"

She released him and rushed over to Honker who stood still as stone and as pale as alabaster. She shook him trying to help him regain his wits.

"Come inside little boy, we've got a ton of great games to play in here…" Sang the madman sweetly as his eyes locked on the trembling Honker.

"Get lost creep!" The fiery red head barked at him.

Quackerjack made a quick movement and too late Drake tried to stop him. A jump rope wrapped around her throat and with an effortless yank the clown pulled her into the hall with him. Drake ran feverishly after her as police cars pulled up in front of the building. Quackerjack laughed merrily as he dragged the flailing child into the main part of the restaurant. Her hands grabbed at her throat and her legs kicked out wildly. Drake bolted after them oblivious to everything else. He caught up and grabbed the jump rope and violently pulled it toward himself. With some resistance the jester dropped his end and in a failed effort to hold onto his victim he toppled over. Mr. Banana Brain landed a few feet away from his master.. His heart in his throat and pounding uncomfortably Drake helped Gosalyn get the rope off. She had tears in her eyes and was gasping horribly but she appeared to be all right. It was then he saw bodies. They were everywhere. Some hung from the rafters by jump ropes similar to the one that had tried to claim Gosalyn, some were impaled on exposed springs of the mechanical mascots, and there were a few with their heads smashed through the glass of the arcade games. Women, men, children, even infants, there was no discrimination all had met horrendous deaths. Gosalyn threw her arms around his waist and buried her face into his rain soaked shirt. She never should have seen this, now she could never forget this. Quackerjack seemed ready to pick himself up from the floor and Drake's mind snapped back to what he had to do.

"Gos, get out of here. Go now."

"But…" Her voice was choked with tears and muffled by his shirt.

"Go to the police and take Honker with you. Go now!" He pushed her off toward the door. With a brief glance back at him she started to run.

"No fair." Whined the clown straightening himself out. "I didn't know we were playing tug of war." The monstrous grin disappeared as the shattered eyes saw the girl retreat. "Simon didn't say you could leave little girl!" He shrieked and pulled out a bright red gun. Drake was upon him before he could even lift it. The rage of Gosalyn being attacked overwrote all his limitations. His pain was unimportant so he didn't feel it, his own safety was inconsequential so he ignored it, and his lack of a firearm was a minor annoyance so he improvised. With all this anger he put the arch of his foot to Quackerjack's chest with the force of a Mac truck. As the jester careened backward the trigger was pulled and a suction cupped dart that shot out stuck to the ceiling. The room was eerie and silent, which gave his mind a chance to catch up to his adrenaline rush. If Quackerjack had any of his gadgets, any of his "toys" Drake would be in an awful lot of trouble. He had nothing to defend himself, nothing to aid him in a fight. Sure his body was primed for battle with his own adrenaline boost but he was a wreck. He wouldn't survive long against more of those sponge monsters, and would be taken down with an other hit from the maniac's bat. The jester glared back at him with a terrifying look of pure hatred etched on his face.

"You don't know how to play this game right." He growled.

"I never read the rules." Drake snapped back. He could hear the police filing into the room behind him.

"You ruined my party!" Quackerjack screeched. The police swarmed in around them, for the first time in a very long time Drake was happy to see them. There was a beep from over head and the jester pointed angrily at him. "I'll get you for this…. And your little girl too!"

The monster before him smirked and the harmless looking suction cup dart exploded. Drake jumped back as chunks of the ceiling fell. The dust and debris filled the air. Coughing and shouting erupted all around him and when the chaos ended Quackerjack was gone.

After the police had finished questioning him they led him outside where Gosalyn and Honker sat in the back of a patrol car. His heart lifted, they were both okay. He sidled over to the car, its doors were open and the children were lost in their own thoughts. He crouched beside the open car door and looked at the shaken little girl.

"Oh I had hoped the day I'd see you in the back of a patrol car would wait until you were at least a teenager." He teased.

His voice broke through her daze and he found her hugging him tightly in a matter of seconds. He patted her soggy hair as she cried. Honker looked at him through his large red glasses, the boy was finally getting some color back into his face.

"You all right there Honker?" All the child could do in response was nod. "Good. Well then, I think it's about time we got out of here."

He was in the clear. He knew the police couldn't challenge his account of what happened because there were security tapes that backed him up. Though they weren't suspicious of him at all, he just couldn't help but feel like he had to prove he hadn't done anything wrong. Darkwing had instilled a distrust of officers of the law in him, and it carried over into Drake as well, it was just something that couldn't be helped. His main objective at this moment was to get the children as far away from this place before they started removing the grizzly bodies. His wounds were no longer quiet and his thoughts, against his will, returned to her. Morgana had eased his aching with as little as a small peck on the cheek, he wished she could show up and take away this blinding pain. He had provided his information to the lingering officers and was escorting the shell-shocked kids back into the car when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He blinked trying to rid the hallucination of his vision, and was stunned to see she was still there. She was hurriedly crossing the street and heading towards them. Her striped hair was pulled into a high ponytail on her head, and she was wearing a black coat and blue jeans. He blinked again to be sure he wasn't loosing his mind, by the time he had opened them again she threw her arms around his shoulders and crushed him in a hug. His head swam with her perfume and the odd sensation he had come to expect whenever she was near.

"Thank heavens you're all safe." She breathed.

"Morgana? How did you…?"

"I had the most horrible premonition last night. I've been searching for you all day Drake." She loosened her hold on him and her eyes shone with relief. He couldn't remember how to speak, how could she be so beautiful in every day clothes? She released him and looked into the car at the shaken children. "And for you and your friend Gosalyn dear. Everything is okay now, trust me."

Gosalyn nodded sniffling. Morgana stroked Honker's wet hair and crouched beside him. Her intense green eyes were turned up to him meaningfully.

"Don't be ashamed Mr. Muddlefoot, you had every right to be afraid. Don't beat yourself up okay? Everyone is fine." She gave the boy a sweet smile and his eyes looked away from her to rest on the floor. Drake couldn't take his eyes off of her. How had she known where they were? That something had happened? How did she know Honker's name? His mind flooded with questions and she turned back to him.

"Can we go somewhere to talk? I have something I really need to tell you."

"I should take Honker home." He said quickly. It was true but at the same time he wanted to distance himself from her. He didn't like to have his mind clouded with unwanted emotions.

"I don't think he wants to go home just yet…" She turned to the children again, and Drake followed her gaze. The look on Honker's face was in silent agreement with what she had said. "Would you two want to get a behind the scenes tour of the circus? They closed it down today to work on some repairs to the main tent and we're all just sitting around looking for something to do. What do you say? Free cotton candy and all the funnel cake you can eat?"

"Keen gear! Can we dad?" Gosalyn peeped, forgetting her shock momentarily. He had three pairs of expectant eyes upon him. Reluctantly he nodded.

The rain pounded on the weathered tent canvas above, the place was quiet and empty. Gosalyn and Honker were obscured from his view by the Marvels that surrounded them. The motley crew had eagerly volunteered to show them around, he wondered which lot was more excited to see the other. The Marvels started to take the kids around with an outburst of laughter. The kids were happy, almost as if what had just happened was a bad dream. They disappeared through a curtain and he was alone with Morgana once more.

"Your defenses are up again… why don't you trust me?" She said softly.

"It's in my nature." He turned to her. She looked hurt, did his trust really mean that much to her?

"Drake… I…"

"Wait I want to ask you something." He interrupted her harshly. He had to ask her this before she stupefied him again. Before he forgot how to form words. "You know who attacked us today?"

"The one who calls himself Quackerjack… yes. I saw him in my vision…"

"Is he in the circus?"

"I don't think so. I'm sure we could have noticed him hiding out here…"

"That's not what I mean. Are you sure no one who works for the circus is Quackerjack?" The look of outrage that flooded her face nearly silenced him. "A guy dressed up as a clown starts murdering people when your circus comes to town it seems pretty suspicious."

"Well you're wrong!" She shouted. "These people are like my family! We look out for each other! We **_trust_**…" she put extra emphasis on this word, "…each other! No one here would do anything like that!"

"Maybe you're right, but this madman has attacked me, though more importantly he attacked Gosalyn. I won't let him escape justice."

She grabbed his hands suddenly and his skin tingled. Taken back he stared into her wide green eyes.

"Let the police handle it. I'm begging you. You're in no condition to fight and you know it! It's too dangerous…"

"I've fought in worse shape than this…"

"Drake if you pursue this any further you will die!" Her eyes pleaded with him. He stared at her; she looked determined to make him agree. Something ignited in him and for the first time he didn't get lost in her eyes. He pulled his hands out of her grasp.

"This is all about you isn't it? The only thing you care about is your magic! It would work out quite lovely for you if I sat in a bubble all day ignoring my senses. Keeping myself away from everything so that you could go on conducting wispy butterflies for your adoring public. Or perhaps using your powers to bewitch rich bachelors into your company? Yes, it would be a shame if you couldn't keep your 'intellectually stimulating' companions interest anymore!" The words were streaming out of him like a long bitter curse. "What a horrible thing it would be if I should die protecting what I hold important, instead of sitting still acting as a resource for your finely elaborated displays of fanciful nonsense for the drones of the world!"

"Stop it!" She cried, her face red with anger and her eyes moist with the coming tears. "You have no idea who I am!"

"You're right. I don't know who you are. And honestly, '**_Mistress_**' I'm glad I don't know what kind of woman you really are because it would break my daughter's heart to hear the truth."

Morgana looked like she wanted nothing more than to weep, to break down into heavy sobs but she wouldn't allow herself to do so.

"I'll break the little brat's neck if you speak to her that way again." Growled a voice to his left. It was familiar sound but before he could inspect it further a pair of strong hands slammed around his throat and forcefully lifted him from the ground. He heard her scream as if a mile away as the white lights swam before his eyes. The grizzly smell of blood rolled over him and he stared down at his attacker.

"John! No! Let him go!" She shrieked.

"No one talks to her that way…. '**_Dad_**'" The shattered eyes glared up at him.

"You…" Drake croaked.

"I never thought you'd fall right into my hands so soon! You are quite a disappointment! I hoped to hunt you down on my own." The unmasked face of Quackerjack sneered up at him.

A shocking mass of orange hair stuck up all over the man's head, and the straight jacket was no where to be seen. He wore a plain black shirt that was darker in places with what Drake already knew was blood, over that he wore a pale blue janitorial looking unbuttoned shirt. He recognized him now; this was the worker that had tried to stop Tither from seeing Morgana! Though he had barely seen him at all before it came together now. Drake couldn't breathe. There was a crackle that sounded like electricity and he jettisoned his heel into Quackerjack's chest. He felt the strength fail in his captor's fingers and a searing pain shot through him. He hit the hard dirt floor his flesh burning. He blinked furiously and willed himself to stand up and stay conscious. Quackerjack was on his knees

"You electrocuted me…" The deranged man said softly. "Morgana! You electrocuted me!" He screamed as he shot her a terrifying glare. "After all I've done for you? I protected you from all those disgusting men! I made other local attractions bloodbaths so the idiots would come and see you! I've done all this for her and she goes and electrocutes us Drake!"

Drake grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off the floor. The insane eyes glanced up at him again, only this time the look they held was like a plea to a friend.

"I bet she didn't know how we resistant we are to it. What would Elmo think of what she did?" Quackerjack sneered and looked confused when he didn't return the smile.

"Don' t you talk to me like you know me you bastard!" He snarled as he released the maniac while clenching a tight fist. With a sickening crack he punched Quackerjack in the face. There was a moment when the other man was stunned, then the eyes shot back to him and narrowed in hatred.

"Oh… you're **_him_**." He dropped his voice to the serious tone he had used the night before. "In that case…" There was another loud crack as Drake received a painful head butt and stumbled backward. He blinked the floating lights away and saw the giggling maniac pull out a butterfly knife that he flicked around, the blade dancing around skillfully. Leave it to Quackerjack to perfect the playful feel of the weapon with a consealed blade. Without warning the steel swiped at him and Drake leaned back in a successful dodge.

"STOP!"

Again he found himself unable to move and apparently his attacker suffered the same ailment. Morgana approached them a scowl etched on her face.

"We took you in and this is how you repay us?" Her voice was infused with disgust and hatred. "No questions asked we took you in! You didn't want to tell us your name so we called you John Doe, we treated you with respect and equality…and you go and do this?"

"Respect! Equality! I don't give a damn about any of that!" Cackled the demented duck. He could speak? Drake could barely blink, how could he speak? "You have no idea how long I held myself back, I wanted you to see me. Mr. Banana Brain told me you wouldn't. He told me you were no good. That you only pretended to like the games I did. He was right, but I wanted to try. You have no idea how many nights I would watch you sleep; regardless of if you were alone or not. I wanted you but now… you want him!" Drake could see the duck struggling to break the spell, the knife still in his hand. There was a murderous look in his eyes and Drake wished he could move, he wanted to be ready to dodge if he could.

It happened with a sound like shattering glass. Somehow the spell was broken, Morgana stumbled slightly and before he could even move the blade was buried deep into his chest. His legs gave out and his body failed him. He took stabbing short breaths as he felt the knife handle protruding from beneath his collarbone. The insane laughter that had chilled his soul sang again and began to fade as its master fled. His chest was sticky with his own blood and he could barely see.

"Drake!" Morgana's fuzzy form hung over him. He took a sharp intake of breath as her shaky hands took hold on the knife. "Dark, darling I'm going to take it out…" she said weakly, her voice shaking almost as badly as her hands. A searing pain shot through him as the blade cut it's way back out of him. There was a heaviness pulling him down and a blindness veiling his eyes. A single teardrop splashed on his face and he winced. "Please… hold on." She pleaded and he felt her hand cover his wound. His skin crawled with intense bouts of pin and needles, which quickly escaladed into an unbearable burning. It was like his flesh was melting in a fire hotter than those in the deepest pits of hell. It was too much… he couldn't stand it anymore. He surrendered to the pain and lost consciousness.

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

This story is © Christina Smith

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Aha! Bet you didn't pay much attention to the surly circus janitor in chapter two did you? - I think we're at about the half way point here… though I can't really judge for sure because the tons of pages with my chicken scratch all over them seem to differ in their digital form. And if you think Drake has had a lousy couple of days so far you ain't seen nothing yet.  Again thank you all for your support and reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

**-Chapter Six-**

Shadows of His Past

The dream came again. The asylum, the white room, the voices calling out to him and finally he was in the cell. His cellmate was there grimly hidden in the shadows. Now that Drake had heard him talk he was even more disturbed by this person. It was strange, no matter where he stepped or moved he could not see his face, but something inside him made him feel like he saw it very often.

"She's out of your league you know." Announced the man angrily.

"Who? Morgana?"

"No the Easter bunny. Yes of course Morgana you knob! What would see want a nobody like you for? Don't fool yourself for a second that…"

"She's the one that came to me okay? And I'm not a nobody, which is more than I can say for you! All you are is a shadow in my dream, what would you know about it anyway!" Drake snapped. His tormentor laughed, and his blood quickly heated to a rolling boil.

"Well, well aren't we defensive. Talk like that makes me think that you love her. You do love her don't you 'Drake'? That's so touching it makes me ill. "The dark laugh erupted again and when he spoke there was a sneer in his voice. "'Here Lies Drake Mallard beloved husband and father'. Sorry but that's just not in your cards."

"Who are you?" Drake demanded, his rage burning like the fires of hell.

"Really now, that is the cold shoulder, after all we went through together. Ah well I suppose it's to be expected. But we can catch up another time. You go on living your little fairy tale, I'll come for you soon enough."

The asylum fell away and he was staring at the back of his eyelids. There was a heavy scent of incense and the bed beneath him was unfamiliar. A pair of hushed voices came from a distance; those were familiar and belonged to Viktor and Arnie. He couldn't make out what they were saying. It took a few more seconds for his memory to catch up with him. He braced himself and anticipated the outcry from his wounds and sat up. There was no pain. He inspected himself and found all the cuts, gashes, bruises, and scrapes missing. In fact, there was no trace that they had even been there at all, apart from the ominous hole the knife had made in his shirt. He looked around the dark room, he was in Morgana's compartment again but this time he was alone. Silently he removed himself from the bed and listened to the quiet voices. He moved through the sleepy curtain of scented smoke and toward the curtain that separated him from the two whispering men. Their silhouettes were clear through the dark red curtain and he hung back hoping to catch some of their conversation.

"I never did trust that guy," grumbled the beefy voice of Arnie. "…always lurking, he was. Never really here or there just kind of lingering."

"You remember the way he'd carry on when we had a slow day?" Viktor piped in. "He would rant to himself for hours, real quiet… and a few times I heard him talking to himself… like he was two people. Goin' on about people not appreciating real fun anymore, just electronic distractions. I mean I knew he was a nutcase but killing all those people?"

"Let's not talk about it Vik… I don't want to think about it." There was a shuffling and when Artie spoke again it was barely audible. "What do you make of _this_ guy?" Drake didn't need to see them to know they were talking about him.

"Dunno. Morgana's seems quite fond of him, so I guess he's all right. The kid's a stitch though."

"Yeah. She's a great kid, but you know Morgana told me she's not really his."

"Doesn't surprise me. He seems too brooding to be responsible for her sense of humor." There was a silence. "I hope she's all right."

Drake's stomach froze over. Did that madman go after Gosalyn? He tore open the curtains and the two sentries jumped in surprise.

"Where is she?" He growled.

"Morgana is…" Viktor started.

"Where is Gosalyn!"

The pair of them looked at one another, then Arnie pointed to where the stage stood on the other side of the curtain. Drake started to run but felt the clammy hand of the cadaver man grab his bicep to halt him.

"We can't let you go out there just yet. She asked us to keep you here…"

Drake pounded Viktor in the beak before he could finish his sentence. The creature released him and stumbled backward. Arnie shouted in outrage and readied to pounce on him. Drake kicked him in the stomach to keep him away.

"That's for trying to feed me to a frog." Drake snarled and without stopping to see the realization dawn on their faces ran to where they had pointed.

"That was you?" Screeched Arnie in disbelief after him.

He pushed the curtain aside and saw the rest of the marvels huddled in a circle in the center of the stage, with Honker toward the middle. His heart sunk as he dashed toward them. What would he do if he had lost her? He had lived alone for so long but now that she was there… he felt happy. For the first time in his life he had a family, a small one, but still a family. He couldn't bear to think about life without her. Something collided with him almost knocking him off stage.

"Dad you're all right!" Squealed the assailant who was latched tightly onto his waist.

"Gos…" He pried her off and inspected her. "Did he hurt you?"

"He tried to take me Dad, but I kicked him where the sun don't shine and punched his lights out! He broke my arm though but Morgana just fixed it up good as new!" She flexed her left bicep. Her eyes danced across his torn shirt. "I heard he stabbed you… I should have ripped his eyes out!" She spat.

"Gosalyn… don't…" The comment fell unheeded and she continued to ramble off violent and gory punishments she would have inflicted on Quackerjack. His eyes rose to the marvels who all regarded him rather coldly. Morgana was among them, her eyes averted. He would have to apologize to her; he never was very good at that. He wasn't truly certain if he could trust her but he couldn't deny it anymore, he wanted too. If she was only using him for whatever magical potency he had then, he would allow it for saving his life… and quite possibly Gosalyn's as well. That is what he told his brain, but his heart wanted to trust her for different reasons. With a sigh he lowered his defenses. Instantly the weak lights surged into a radiant brightness and a number of them shattered. The broken bulbs sparked defiantly the sparks changed to vibrant, unnatural colors as they flickered out of existence. He could feel her eyes upon him but he refused to look at her. After all the horrible things he had said to her she still saved them both… he never could properly apologize.

"Whoa! What was that?" Proclaimed Gosalyn loudly as she walked over to Honker her eyes on the broken lights.

He heard someone coming at him. Perhaps it was Viktor, coming to settle the score for the sucker punch. Would he defend or just take the hit? Take the hit… he decided, that would show his appreciation. The feet approached and the fist didn't come. Instead he found her arms around him and with so much as a bat of an eyelash she kissed him. The remaining bulbs shattered, their glass melting into water as it showered the ground.

"Way to go Dad!" Whooped his enthusiastic ten year old.

In the dark tent she seemed to glow before him. She held him close and whispered to him through light tears.

"I'm sorry you felt deceived… I'm sorry I shocked you, I was aiming for him but you kicked him right when I released the spell." She spoke breathlessly. "This is all my fault I never should have allowed him to join us. I should have.."

"Don't." He interrupted her. "Don't apologize to me and don't blame yourself for things you can't control."

"But Drake, I've caused you so much pain. I am to blame for all of this… if I had never lost my ring…"

"You'd never met me or Gosalyn…"

"You wouldn't have been hurt…"

He gave her a wry smile.

"Morg… I always get hurt."

"I love you."

His heart stopped. What? Had he just imagined that? Did she really just say that or did he only hear what his own heart was screaming? He became very aware of all the eyes that were upon them. He pulled himself out of her arms and she looked devastated.

"We need to talk." He said flatly and firmly grasped her hand and led her outside. The rain was still pouring steadily; he led her to the next tent and after insuring that it was empty ducked inside. There were boxes piled all around and a dim lantern hung on a beam, this was a supply tent. He released her hand and turned to her. The rain still dripped down her elegant face and added a wet shine to her silky hair. She looked as though she had her heart ripped out and tap danced on.

"I'm such a fool…" She sadly started.

"Why would you say that Morgana?" His soft tone only seemed to deepen her sorrow. He sat on an uncluttered box keeping his eyes on her. "You've barely known me three days, how can you say that you love me?"

"I know you,…" she said with a sweet smile. "I've spent so many past lives with you. I don't care how unbelievable it may sound." She said dismissively, suspecting his skepticism. "Our souls are old Drake, and we've managed to find each other over and over again in countless reincarnations."

"You say that with so much confidence, how can you be so sure it's me?" He wanted to believe it, but the man from his dream was right… why would this beautiful woman want him?

"I'll admit, I did have some doubts at first. The other men you were had an overpowering darkness in them. A vile, violent temper and a vicious mean streak. Negative energy that often flowed over the good,… I happen to know that more than a few times we have died at each others hands because of it. Such an all consuming evil flared with in your soul that always seemed to devour you… but now…" Her gorgeous eyes sparkled at him. "Now I find you this time and your so pure… so good it almost hurts to be around you."

"I can't be who you think I am. I assure you I'm not a very good person. I really am a lousy, selfish guy…" He tried to convince not only her but also himself. He couldn't stand to complicate things more than they all ready were. He couldn't let himself pull her down with him, no matter how much he wanted to be with her. "I've hurt people, I'm arrogant, reckless, self serving, and I've even killed…"

"I know what you've done, your imprint showed me so much. I may not have seen your whole life but what I did see was you doing what you had to Drake. You've lived by what you thought was right, and you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to your parents." She took his hand comfortingly. His eyes shot to her in shock.

"My parents?" He searched her face, she looked sincere, and understanding.

"I didn't mean to say that you should feel responsible…" she started quickly.

"Morgana…," he said as his mouth went dry, "… I have no memory of my parents."

They stared at each other in the dim lamp light. The rain water was still dripping off her hair and her eyes shone with sadness.

"Oh no… I've seen something you've repressed?" She finally asked. " I'm so sorry Drake I didn't…"

"What happened? What should I feel guilty about?" He asked her half heartedly.

"I.." she looked reluctant.

His temper began to flare. Why should she keep his memories from him? He deserved to know more than she did. Why should she know more about him than he did?

"Can you show me?" He watched her carefully. She stared hopelessly into his eyes, when she saw he wouldn't back down she nodded.

"Just to warn you it was a fractured vision. I can only show you what I saw." She took his hands in hers and he ignored how bright the lantern's light shone. She sat at his feet. "Close your eyes."

His hands became very warm and images began to dance across his eyelids as if put there by a projector. A large manor set back on a grassy hill stood before him, a large gaudy "G" emblazoned the front gate. In a flash he was inside, ancient artifacts and expensive furnishings were surrounding him. Like a slide show he saw faces, hauntingly familiar but distant and unreachable. They must be his mother, father…. and sister? He saw them in flashes for only a fraction of a second, sitting outside, in his father's study, on a picnic. Then there was darkness. His father appeared at his feet… dying, knife wounds covered his body and he heard a voice that once must have been his own.

"Dad! What happened to you? Who did this?"

His father faded and his mother materialized sprawled out on a bed the knife still buried deep in her heart. The next thing he saw was his sister's terrified face and then she was gone. A jolt of agony ripped through his brain, he saw the halls of the asylum, and the blood on his hands. He yanked his hands away from her and his eyes shot open.

She looked frightened. He realized how hard it was to breath and how badly he was shaking, he tried to calm himself. It was no use all he could do was listen to the terrified rhythm of his heart.

"W…was that last thing… an asylum? That wasn't there before…." She whispered.

"I… I don't know." He lied. What did it all mean? Someone had killed his parents… buried deep inside he knew who had done it, from what he just saw it might have been him. No. No it wasn't possible, he would know if he did. Wouldn't he? He felt sick, literally, he had the horrible feeling that if he opened his mouth at the moment he would throw up. Up until an hour ago he had been so certain of many things, he had abandoned the idea of searching for his past and was living the life he had now. But here it was, rearing its ugly head and only raising more questions. It seemed that now not only Morgana knew more about his past than he did but also Quackerjack as well. It nagged him, that name the maniac had thrown out so conversationally, "Elmo". He had no idea who the name belonged to but in some dark crevasse of his mind he felt he knew him. He found the sickness was ebbing away and he composed himself the best he could.

"Morgana, can you unlock my memories?"

She shook her head.

"I wouldn't even know where to start something as complicated as that. Drake," she took his hand again and the remaining illness left him, "… you don't remember for a reason. Maybe it's better if you don't know what happened. I understand that I must sound cold asking you not to pursue the chance to regain years of your life, but there was something dark back there. Something very wrong, you shouldn't tempt it to return." She pleaded with him.

"Maybe you're right." He sighed. Did he want to know what happened? What if he did kill them? What if he was a psychopath just waiting to be released? He didn't want to know. He wanted to be Drake Mallard, a single dad and a secret crime fighter. And if that meant not knowing, he looked at the relief on the lovely face before him, then so be it. He became very self-conscious as he realized how horrible he must look at this moment. He cleared his throat nervously; he wasn't quiet use to being looked at so closely by beautiful women. "Well, I should probably get back to Gosalyn and Honker… his parents will be worried." He stood but she held his hand tight.

"I'm sorry if I missed your response but I...," her eyes were on the ground a tone of embarrassment was in her soft statement. "…I can't let you go until I know how you feel about me."

"All that imprinting and magic you have and you still can't tell?" He smirked.

"It doesn't really work that way. I mean I can't just…" She started hotly but he lifted her face with a gentle touch and she fell silent.

"I'm crazy about you."

Far from the magic, and what was taking place at the circus there was an urgent matter that needed to be taken care of. The rain was a thick sheet that hazed the world out of focus. The streets of St. Canard were unusually quiet, which suited his purposes just fine. Any second now the fool would walk past the alley where he lurked. He clicked his metallic beak impatiently. He was soaked to the bone, damn near freezing, his new suit was drenched, and the dry cleaning bill would not be a pretty sight. He couldn't complain however, not with the company he kept tonight anyway, and at least the alley was shelter from the rain. Soggy clumsy footfalls neared the alley and his target came into sight. He shot his hand out and grabbed the goofy looking duck by the shirt and slammed him hard against the wall. The nutcase that referred to himself as Quackerjack was only partially suited up, the jester hat was nowhere to be seen and an unruly mass of orange hair was wetted to his head. The unnerving eyes that glared at him slid immediately into horror as realization swept over the fool's face.

"Steelbeak!" peeped Quackerjack.

"Clownie da boss ain't too happy 'bout what ya did back dere. You gonna screw dis all up over some goil?"

"Morgana is not just some girl." Growled the captive.

"Sure she ain't. But ya gotta see it da way we do. Da boss gave you a chance ta do tings yer way an' can you disagree when I say it got outta hand?"

Quackerjack answered with an abashed silence.

"Didn't tink so. Now lissen Mac, since ya can't make da right decisions he's gunna make dem for ya." Steelbeak snapped his metal mouth loudly.

"Oh? And I suppose he sent you here with a singing telegram did he?" Spat the suddenly un-intimidated lunatic.

A match danced into life in the dark heart of the alley and lit a cigar.

"Wrong again." Came the gnarled deep voice from the shadows.

"Boss, I kin handle dis." Steelbeak reassured him.

"I don't remember addressing you, Rusty." His tone was impartial but his words stung like venom. He was barely visible, just a darker figure in the creeping shadows, with the curling bittersweet smoke steadily rising from the expensive cigar. He didn't move but he didn't have to, he was terrifying enough when he was perfectly still. "I don't like to make house calls, especially in shit weather like this, but you force me to do things I'd rather not do." He exhaled a screen of smoke. "Drop 'em."

Steelbeak glared at Quackerjack and removed his hands from him. Quackerjack felt the urge to run, strike, and cower all at the same time. The different scenarios played out in his fractured mind rapidly and he reached the conclusion that the only way he would survive was to cower.

"Your handy work at the dumbest place on Earth was very impressive, it was like watching a master at work, but then you went and got stupid."

"How could you see what I did?" He had to fight the shakiness in his voice.

"My eyes are everywhere. That being said I think you owe me an explanation before I act prematurely."

By that Quackerjack knew he meant to kill him or worse. His mind raced to find something he could say that would save his hide. He only had one thing he could say that might deter the anger onto someone else.

"He was there." Quackerjack responded.

There was a moment of eerie silence; the only thing that moved was the gray smoke that rose in spires in the damp night air.

"So I have heard." The deep voice finally answered, a cloud of gray escaping with each word. "I also heard that it was only after you attempted to strangle him that you discovered who he was. That is quite discerning…" The calmness of his voice burned hotter than a red-hot poker.

"I…" He would have to think up something fast.

"Save it Pagliacci. There was no harm done, fortunately for you she was there to clean up your mess. And while some have told me after recent actions you can't be trusted," Quackerjack noticed a sneer cross Steelbeak's face, "…I feel I still have use for you."

The smirk faded fast from the metal mouth and Quackerjack felt one ravish his own features.

"Thank you Boss! You won't be sorry…" He began.

"I all ready am." Snapped the voice from the darkness. "In order to keep my mind in this decision I will give you orders directly and you will follow them as closely as Renfield to Dracula, got it?" The growled question was more like a declaration. All Quackerjack could manage to do was nod. "Good. Now this is what you're going to do…."

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

Romance, Mystery, Murder, Maniacs, Mysticism, and a bit of foreshadowing?

The plot thickens eh?

Sorry to keep you all waiting. I've had a lot on my plate lately, none of it very good. So bear with me here, okay? (Not to mention the weather in grand old New Jersey has been rather wonderful this past week, so I haven't been spending too much time glued to a computer screen.) I'm going to keep on trying to do the weekly (on Mondays) updates, but with the semester almost over I'm not sure how I'm going to be updating when the time comes. (Because all computers I have owned hated me and exploded.) Perhaps I'll become a wandering vagabond with a floppy disc and a very thick binder filled with Darkwing related chicken scratch asking to use people's computers to update… who knows. Not me that's for sure. So I hoped ya enjoyed this long chapter and ideally I'll get the next one up in a week. Oh and for those of you going "Who the hell is Pagliacci? What a dumb name to give Quackerjack!" Pagliacci is an opera about a heart broken clown, and incidently the italian word for clown or the clowns. So there ya go... you learned something today.


	7. Chapter 7

-Chapter Seven-

By the Light of the Full Moon

The rain was letting up, the clouds wisping slowly away to reveal the twinkling stars and the brilliant full moon. The lights from the city sparkled in their own calm majesty through the tower's windows. Gosalyn and Honker were safe in their beds with Launchpad taking up his nightly vigil. A warm ease had drowned him. All the uncertainty he had been fighting with hours ago didn't even seem like it had existed. His troubles were clearing up like the weather. He felt complete, in all his memories he could not think of any other time he had felt so blissfully calm. It was almost funny, all the years he was fighting, all the sweat, blood, and tears he had endured in hopes of feeling this way, it was in vain. How would he have known that what he was missing was a little girl and a woman who loved him?

She stirred gently beside him, her head resting on his chest. Her striped hair lay around her like a silken puddle. His mind was clear as he ran his fingers through her hair and the heaviness of sleep weighed upon his eyelids. He smiled absently to himself. He was sure that for the first time in years he'd get a decent night's sleep. One that wasn't induced by injury or medication, one that wasn't filled with nightmares of asylums and death. All thoughts of Quackerjack and Darkwing were nonexistent, tonight he was just Drake Mallard, and he was in love. As the last of the raindrops silently plummeted from the sky, the sweet release of sleep drew him in and the moon shone with an eerie brightness.

Across the city in his elegant penthouse apartment, Reynold Tither scowled at the celestial display. The incident with the vigilante S.H.U.S.H. was pursuing really burned him. He hated the bastard for making a fool of him, hated how he acted and pleaded like a coward, but mostly he hated that it was all over her! He had been relentlessly wooing her for two weeks until he finally got desperate enough to steal her ring. He knew she always wore it but had no idea it was a conduit for her power. He was sure he had her, she would have been his in only a matter of minutes but he came. "Who is Quackerjack?" His scowl deepened. What a ridiculous question. There was no Quackerjack until an artist doodled a dopey looking jester and it was slapped on some crummy toys.

"Who is Quackerjack.. ha!" He spat bitterly. "What does he think I am? An idiot?"

"Well I do!" Exclaimed a voice behind him.

He spun around and saw a derange looking duck in a blood stained straightjacket and jester hat sitting rather nonchalantly in his large leather chair.

"Wh… Who are you? How did you get in here?" Tither shouted in what he hoped was an intimidating voice. "I'll have you know S.HU.S.H. has my house on watch and will be in here to blow you away in a few minutes." He lied, praying his voice wasn't shaking; he didn't like the way this person was looking at him. Apparently he wasn't intimidating because the Jester laughed wildly at him. As the man collected himself he started to speak through his mad giggles.

"S.H.U.S.H. isn't watching anything! Apart from the doughnuts in their break room…" The intruder became very serious and a grim sneer stretched across his face. "And **I** am Quackerjack. And I don't just think you're an idiot Rey, I know it. You're a cowardly, greedy, backstabbing, bottom feeding, thieving idiot!" Screamed the seated figure the shattered eyes widening with madness.

"W…who are you?" Peeped Tither his back firmly pressed against the wall. The jester's grin stayed put but his eyes flashed with hatred.

"I've all ready told you. I am and always will be Quackerjack. Without me, MY work, MY ideas, you'd still be on an assembly line jamming plastic arms into their sockets in a factory somewhere!"

"It… it can't be.." Panicked Reynold, his breath was getting caught in his throat.

"Oh but it is. You stole my plans, my company, and drove me into madness. You thought you had gotten rid of me. You thought you were Scot free these past few years…" Quackerjack stood his uneven teeth bared in an evil smile. "You were right about that first part, but did you really think I wouldn't come back to thank you?"

"N…now l... let's not be rash, we both know you had medication that you hadn't been taking…." Stammered Reynold, his knees were shaking badly.

"Funny you should mention that, they did just disappear all of a sudden didn't they? And I never did get check your desk for the bottle. But I suppose I should be grateful, things are much more fun now."

Reynold saw something Quackerjack had left on the chair, and recognized it instantly. The horrible face that never made it out of concept sketches, sat there sneering at him. He was grasping but if he could appease the madman, keep him away for a while someone was sure to come.

"Is that a Banana Brain doll?" He breathed.

"That's MR. Banana Brain to you! " Quackerjack growled. "And he's not very fond of you so I think you should shut your trap before you make him mad."

"Come now, be reasonable, I'm sure we can work something out…" Reynold tried to compile himself, but it was hard when the man he had known all those years ago was stalking menacingly toward him.

"Work? No dice. I hate work." Quackerjack smirked. "How about we play a game instead? I've got a real good one, it's called Gut the Idiot." He was only three strides away now.

"No! No! Wait let's talk this out! I'm begging you!" He threw his hands up and covered his face.

"Talk? Why talk when you can sing? Talking is so boring. Sing your proposition to me and maybe I'll listen…. Maybe." His voice was near but he was still no closer. Hesitantly Reynold took his hands away from his eyes and saw the man standing still, staring him down three paces between them.

"You can't be serious…"

"I'm never serious. Life's too short to be serious, but if you don't change my mind quick I'll split you like a flounder."

"I'll give you anything! You want money? I'll give you as much as you want! You want royalties? I'll give you those too! You can have the whole damn company just don't hurt me!" He pleaded.

"Hmm. Very tempting, but I'm sorry we were looking for the answer in the form of a snappy tune, tough break Rey."

Reynold let out a distressed sob; in response the jester crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"Simon says: stop sniveling you coward! I'm not going to kill you, well… not yet anyway." He snarled.

"Wh..what are you going to do with me?"

"You, my dear old friend, are a distraction."

Quackerjack backed off from the cowering mogul and began wandering around the room, inspecting objects that interested him. Tither, his entire body quivering with fear peeled himself away from the wall. He swallowed hard and watched the clown pick up certain items with mild curiosity. He had never regretted swindling this guy out of his work, he still didn't. Even before he wore this crazy suit the man was unstable, taking anti-psychotic medication multiple times daily, and scribbling up bizarre toys. So when he had the chance he acted, he was as powerful as he was this day because of this man. It was a shame really; he couldn't even remember this guy's real name. It wasn't really important though, someone would be by soon, Quackerjack must have set off the alarms when he came in. He just had to keep his wits about him until they showed up. At this moment the jester was more interested in his books than him, thumbing through them quickly and throwing them impatiently over his shoulder. He would have to make the most of his tormentor's distraction. Silently he moved toward his dresser, he brushed aside some riff raff and closed his shaking hand around his penknife. He quickly hid it behind him as Quackerjack turned to him slamming another book shut.

"These are no good Rey! All these pages and not a single picture? No jokes? How can anyone have fun with these?"

"I… that is…" He wasn't sure how to answer and it looked like Quackerjack didn't really expect him too. The costumed freak threw the book aside and wandered off to investigate a new area. "So… um. What have you been up to lately?" He wished he could have come up with something not so lame but his mind drew a complete blank.

"Been trying to keep you away from Ms. Macabre…" Quackerjack flashed him an evil glare.

"You?" Realization hit Tither too late. He had been tripped up so many times by one circus worker in his pursuit of Morgana, and he had thought the man had looked familiar. Now it was all too horribly clear. "You were that janitor at the circus…"

"Yes. Yes I was. And you really crossed the line there friend. Trying to lure her here into you're… you're lust filled fantasy. I should kill you for that alone." Quackerjack fixed Tither with an unblinking stare.

"Her? Is that what this is all about? Is she the reason why you broke in here tonight? I can assure you I won't bother your 'Mistress' again!" He felt the anger swell up inside him. Again he was acting like a fool because of that sideshow witch!

"Yes, I'd imagine Darkwing Duck beat that out of you." Sneered the jester with a smug glance at the window that was still broken and covered in thick plastic.

"You sent him here!" His fear was quickly overpowered by rage.

"Let's say I pointed him in your direction." Laughed the clown.

"So is that why you chose 'Quackerjack' as your alias?"

"No. I already told you I am Quackerjack, always have been, always will be. And you're boring me Rey…" Quackerjack moved back toward the chair the doll still occupied and reached behind it. "Since you're no fun to play with I came prepared. Mr. Banana Brain and I want to introduce you to my newest prototype." He pulled out a brightly colored, large mallet splattered in blood and hoisted it up to rest on his shoulder. He twirled the heavy weapon around with ease and started at Tither intently. "You can see it's already been kid tested and mother approved…. Want to try it out for yourself?"

"Be reasonable now, I'm a very wealthy man. I can get you anything you want." He held tight to the penknife, he was sure he could take care of this fool; he just had to wait it out. There was no smile from Quackerjack just the unblinking glare and the steady twirling of the mallet. "Listen. I know I was wrong back then… by God it still keeps me awake at night thinking about what I did to you!" He convincingly lied. "Please let me make it up to you. There must be something I can do." He locked eyes with the menace. "Perhaps I could buy off a certain Mistress for you?" He hoped that would seal the deal but instead the mallet swooshed at him missing by a hair. The head of the giant hammer smashed the mirror that hung on the wall and the glass crashed to the floor, Quackerjack's livid expression chilled him.

"You always did talk to much… you're a real Chatty Cathy. We'll see how talkative you are when I get through with you!"

Reynold attacked at that moment. The small bit of steel was aimed at the clown's eye. It looked like he would get the blade to its target until, with frightening speed a gloved hand caught his weapon-wielding wrist. Promptly and effortlessly Quackerjack snapped his wrist. Tither screamed and fell to his knees cradling his broken appendage.

"You really are an idiot." There was a loud crack as the mallet collided with Tither's head. The pitiful form fell face first onto the floor unconscious, a bead of blood forming at the wound. Quackerjack stood fidgeting with the weapon over him. His eyes darted around the room. Couldn't he just finish him now? Would that be so bad? Who needed to follow the plan anyway? He gripped the handle tightly and suddenly a shiver ran down his spine. He felt like someone was watching him. With a scowl he picked up the jack in the box he had stashed behind the chair and placed it on the bed. He stared at it and smiled in anticipation for tomorrow. With minimal effort he slung Tither over his shoulder, picked up his plush comrade, and made a clean escape into the city streets.

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

This story and the rest are mine :D

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Hey bonus update for you guys! I had to go to the computer lab again so I typed this up real quick for you all! Expect some more on monday! Take care til then!


	8. Chapter 8

-Chapter 8-

According to Plan

When Drake awoke it was as if he had slept for days. He was rejuvenated, alert, and completely at ease. The early rays of the rising sun seeped into the tower smothering everything in a golden haze. Something nagged at the back of his mind. It was a Darkwing-y feeling that often meant something was wrong. But, he reasoned with it, what could possibly be wrong on this beautiful day? The nagging didn't subside in the least. He closed his eyes and tried to tempt sleep back to him to no avail. He tried to ignore it, it screamed even louder. He tried to concentrate on something else, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin on his, but still the unrelenting Darkwing would not leave him be.

"What's wrong Drake?"

He opened his eyes and saw her looking up at him, more unfairly beautiful than anything in the world. Were they so in tune that she knew something was bothering him? Or did he just look like he was struggling with something? He stared stupidly at her, unsure of how to answer. He didn't' know what it was but he felt as if he should be somewhere, that there was something he had to do.

"Are you all right?" She furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"I'm better than all right." He smiled, but she looked suspiciously at him. "It's nothing really, I promise. It's just a feeling that I should be doing something…"

She kissed him sweetly and pulled her hair away from her face. Her smoldering emerald eyes looked upon him with a weakening fondness and she ran her hand gently along his hair feathers.

"Well, can I be selfish and keep you from what ever it is that wants your attention for a little while longer?"

"Please be as selfish as you can possibly bear for as long as you wish."

The sun was making its slow ascent into the sky. The sounds of the morning commuters were barely louder than a whisper. It was another twenty minutes before they got out of bed, the nagging growing with each passing second. He stood at one of large windows staring at the sun reflecting off the bay. He was in the clothes he had worn the day before and absent-mindedly fingered the hole Quackerjack's knife had made. There was an odd scraping noise and he saw her lifting the shattered bike helmet he had almost forgotten about. The despair that was etched on her face was unnerving, it was almost as if she was looking on as they lowered his coffin into the grave.

"Morgana?"

"You could have been killed." She said sadly.

"Hey now, don't…" He started only to fall silent at the sight of her. She stood, the fractured mass of plastic in her hands, looking as if she would start to cry. Her eyes were fixed on the heavily cracked visor.

"Why do you do it? I've tried to think, tried to figure out why you would choose this violent, lonely lifestyle…. And I can't figure it out. Is it just a childhood fantasy that you've ridden to long? Or are you trying to make up for something that you weren't able to prevent? I've seen how this life repays you: cuts, scars, pain, broken bones, anguish, and mental wounds. Not to mention you're a wanted man! The police and the special forces of S.H.U.S.H. are always out to nab you, and you're on their side! " A bewildered glint shone in her eyes as she looked at him. "You work all day and all night. You get barely any sleep, you hardly eat, this life is destroying you. If your thirst for justice is so unquenchable why not join them? Leave the twenty-four hour vigilante behind and use your skills to help them as Drake?" She fingered the large dents in the helmet a she pleaded with him. Her desperate eyes were too much for him and he looked back out to the bay again as he answered.

"They offered me a job once." He sighed. "I refused rather quickly and then had to avoid being killed. Paperwork, regulations, and file sorting just aren't for me Morg."

"And stitching your own wounds and this.." She brandished the bike helmet, "… are?"

"It's who I am, and even if I wanted to I couldn't' stop now. I've gotten in too deep…" He replied calmly.

"Superheroes aren't real Drake. You're just flesh and blood as the criminals you face. If you need to separate yourself from the protocol then why not work for them, with them. It's working out so well in Duckburg with Gizmoduck."

"Gizmoduck?" He growled shortly, "Is that what you want me to be? Some overgrown boy scout?"

"I don't want you to be Gizmoduck Drake… I just want you to be safe." She sighed. "And this is not just about how I feel." She added quickly seeing a retort flash in his eyes. "Do you really want to leave Gosalyn alone?"

The outrage quickly faded into a somber guilt and he looked back at the glittering water below again. He had tried not to think about that, but hearing it come from her made him feel so selfish. He hated it. Gosalyn had lost all of her family before she should have, how would she hold up if he died too? He wished he had an excuse, that he felt ill or he had a headache and didn't want to talk about this right now. But, the truth was he'd never felt better and somehow he knew she already knew that.

"You know I don't." He finally answered.

She came up behind him and draped her arms around his shoulders. Her silky hair flowed over his shoulder as she rested her chin on it.

"Please don't be upset with me darling, I'm only trying to help."

"I know." He placed his hands over hers. Could he do it? Would he be able to abandon Darkwing and lead a normal life? Report to the same place day after day, come home to Gosalyn at a reasonable hour and stay there? Would Morgana be there waiting for him too? Would J. Gander's offer that he made him six months ago still be open? Drake Mallard… an agent of S.H.U.S.H? One identity all the time, he had to admit it was tempting,

"Why don't you think about it? Maybe you could find an understanding agent and discuss the idea?" She suggested.

Maybe it was the way she held him, or how he felt when they were together but he decided it was a good plan.

"I have a better way." He led her to a complicated looking control panel. "I can hack into any radio channel from here. I can find the line that S.H.U.S.H. communicates on, find a candidate and isolate their transmission frequency." He flipped on the machine and smashed a few keys.

"Darkwing Duck." Announced an elderly sounding voice. Drake nearly jumped out of his skin, the message continued. "This is J Gander Hooter director of S.H.U.S.H. but I daresay, if you are hearing this transmission I'd wager you all ready knew that. There has been an incident, and abduction we believe. A rather predominant social figure has been missing since 11:57 last night. Only one clue was left of his captor and whereabouts and unfortunately for us it is addressed to you."

"What?" Drake whispered.

"It is a device that appears to be a simple jack-in-the-box, however on closer inspection it has been outfitted with a fingerprint scanner. We attempted to overwrite the mechanism but only triggered a security fail safe. It may amuse you to know that Agent Grizzlycof is nursing a bad burn because of it. I am offering you a truce for the time being. We must recover this man as soon as possible. You may find me at 553 Sixth Street. This message will be repeated."

He looked back at Morgana who was staring at him. She knew the address as well as he did.

"Tither."

The now familiar locale was swarming with police officers and S.H.U.S.H. agents. Darkwing surveyed the outside of the building from a nearby rooftop. There were no signs of forced entry. Quackerjack had been the one to kidnap him, there was no doubt in his mind, but it wasn't really the clown's style to be so neat. He could see Hooter through the window of the missing scumbag's bedroom. Was it a trap? He wasn't prepared for one. Somehow he had a feeling Hooter would keep his word. Now, the thought to himself, how would he make his entrance?

Hooter stood in the center, his investigative team scouring the room around him. So far they had found a penknife, a broken mirror, the box, and a bit of the victim's blood on the carpet. They deduced that Tither had tried to attack his tormentor with the measly weapon and was taken down. The only prints they found were Tither's. This was getting rather frustrating. The obnoxiously red box with the bright yellow smiley faces on it sat on the bed. They had tried everything, there was no way anyone of them could open it. There was a label tag that had child-ish writing on it that read "For Darkwing Duck ONLY!" So, much to Agent Grizzlycof's offense, he had recorded a message for the renegade. Now all they could do was wait. There was a faint clank from outside.

"I hope you'll pardon my hesitation, but I'd rather not enter a room where I am so unfairly anticipated…" came a smug young voice, "… So if you wouldn't mind could you call in a few more Agents, J Gander? I don't think my ego can take such a low blow."

Hooter smiled. Darkwing was always so interesting and arrogant.

"How about I ask them all to clear out so that you and I could have a word?"

"That'll do."

The agents left without question. The window slid open and the masked mallard entered. It had been a while since they had met face to face. The last time he had come in contact with this man there had been a massive explosion that took weeks to recover from. Hooter could sense that Darkwing was tougher than last time. He was more intimidating and yet he carried himself the same way he always had. He was such a curious person.

"Well, well it has been a while hasn't it Mr. Duck?"

"Certainly has. I can see you've been busy." His voice was unreadable.

Hooter admired the control the vigilante had over such small things as this, it was a skill not many possessed nowadays.

"As have you I've heard. One eyewitness said she saw you with demon sponges and a jester, setting fire to department stores the other night. Quite a strange crew. May I be so forward as to ask if it is the same Jester who turned Chunky Charlie's into a blood bath, and the same Jester who allegedly grabbed Mr. Tither?" He watched the young man like a hawk hoping to catch something in his reaction. But, as always, Darkwing offered no clues.

"I believe it is, yes. Is that what was left for me?" Darkwing prodded a gloved hand at the red box.

"Yes, I'd be careful with that. It is extremely dangerous."

Darkwing picked up the box and carefully turned it over in his hands.

"And it was found here on the bed?"

"Indeed. It was all the culprit left behind." His keen eyes stayed locked on the vigilante's every move.

"Well, here goes nothing." Sighed Darkwing as he pulled off a glove. After a moment of hesitation he pressed his bare right thumb to the small metal square.

Before he could remove it the square sank in and a sharp pair of metal teeth clamped down on his finger. He shouted in pain and the top of the box sprang open. The blood quickly started dripping down his hand and the voice of Quackerjack spoke from the dark opening.

"Darkwing!" It giggled. "You are too trusting and predictable! So you came to help the S.H.U.S.H.-ies in their little game of cops and robbers? I'm sure Mr. Hooter is present as well? How nice of you to join us director!" Laughed the voice. "It is just all too scripted! You rush to the aide of the vile Reynold Tither… who I assure you J Gander is still alive…. And leave the real target open for attack! Oh but where's the fun in just blurting out what I've done? So I've composed a nifty little riddle for you." The voice cleared its throat dramatically and sang: "Are you ready?" Which was answered by silence. "Good! Here it is:

_When the sloth falls from view the pale children will rejoice, while the eleven of clubs bears to their wandering souls the golden baby goose doomed to join them by the flapping terror at the thirteenth hour_.

Better put on your thinking caps… time is running out." The voice was gone.

The blood was flowing down his arm, the riddle ringing in his ears. Hooter was writing feverishly on a notepad. The metal fangs would not budge and inch to release him. He gripped the box firmly with his left hand and braced himself. He yanked the box away hard and the teeth tore deep oozing treads on his finger. He held in a scream as he pulled the rest of his finger out. He gritted his teeth and glared at the silent box, he could see chunks of his flesh caught in the metal mouth. He threw the box back on the bed.

"Do you need a medic Darkwing?" Asked Hooter concerned.

Dark kept his mouth shut, he knew if he opened it he would scream. Instead he shook his head "no" and wrapped his bloody finger tightly in his cape.

"Did you hear all the riddle? Can you make sense of it? It is rather misleading and I don't see any hints to Mr. Tither's whereabouts…."

"It's not about him." Dark croaked. "He's just a decoy. The 'sloth' is Tither, the whole abduction was a distraction…"

"So it would seem. He mentioned the eleven of clubs…"

"The jack. The jester calls himself Quackerjack." The bleeding was slowing down.

"Yes so I've heard but what of the rest? What is he getting at?" Hooter looked over his notes. "It's all nonsense to me… the pale children, the flapping terror… that I do believe is you, the golden gosling…."

Darkwing's heart stopped.

"The what?"

"A baby goose… it is referred to as a gosling." Hooter explained impatiently.

Darkwing stumbled over his own feet trying to get back to the window as fast as he could.

"Where are you going?" Shouted Hooter.

"I've been had J Gander! Swear to me you won't do any tests on my blood and I'll try to bring Tither back for you." Dark climbed out the window and stared at the elderly bird. "SWEAR TO ME!"

"All right. But Darkwing let us know where he is and we will assist you." Hooter watched the duck disappear in a hasty retreat.

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney


	9. Chapter 9

-Chapter Nine-

Into the Mouth of Madness

The Rat catcher screamed to a halt in front of the Mallard house on Avian way. Darkwing ran full throttle to the front door and whipped it open, the sight he saw almost made him collapse. The house was trashed, everything was smashed or knocked to the floor, the walls were covered in crayon, confetti littered every surface, and to anyone but him it might have looked like the aftermath of a serious party. His voice caught in his throat as he pulled himself together. He stepped into his house, odds and ends crunching beneath his boots. It was quiet, was he here hiding? Had he gotten to Gosalyn yet? He scrambled up the stairs and his words dislodged themselves.

"Gosalyn?" He shrieked and grabbed onto the doorknob to her room. The knob slid beneath his bloody hand and after a desperate moment he finally wrenched it open. Her room was pristine, nothing had been broken, it looked as it had when he last saw it.

"Gosalyn?" There was a lump under the covers of her bed. He walked to it carefully, and took hold of the comforter. He swallowed hard and pulled back the bed cover. A pair of red eyes stared back up at him, and a green-toothed smile greeted him.

"Mama…." Said the grotesque baby doll.

His heart shattered. He could barely breathe, how could he have failed her so miserably? There was a loud thump from the hallway. He pulled out his gas gun and darted out, ready to fire.

"Dra… Darkwing?"

"Launchpad!" Darkwing stared at the broken figure before him. He was bloodied, showing signs of bruising, and held one leg limp. Dark holstered his gun and rushed to aid his battered friend. "Launchpad what happened?" From the looks of the duck's stature he had been bludgeoned, and his left leg was broken in two places.

"The bastard came at me with a mallet… he didn't look it but he was a strong bugger."

"What happened to Gos?"

"He got her." The strong looking duck lowered his eyes in shame. "I'm so sorry Drake, I tried to help her but he…" Launchpad held a bloody wound on his forehead.

Drake felt as if he would never be happy again, that he would curl up and die right then and there, luckily, inside Drake's head there was also Darkwing.

"Did he say where he was taking her LP?" Darkwing grabbed a dowel from the staircase and yanked it free. He quickly fashioned the wooden dowel into a splint for the downed duck.

"Nah, he didn't hurt her though. She was fine when they left." Launchpad tried to sound reassuring.

"Oh, he won't kill her until he has an audience…" Darkwing said numbly. "When did he do this?"

"Ah…" Launchpad wiped the blood from his forehead. "I dunno I was out for a while, but about an hour and a half ago maybe a bit longer…" Launchpad noticed the disconnected look in his friend's eyes.

Darkwing's stomach churned sourly, that was around the time he had his ominous feeling. He helped Launchpad get to his feet. The standing McQuack put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go. I'll ready the Thunderquack, we'll find the bastard and put him in his place."

Darkwing shook his head.

"You sit this one out partner. He's got my daughter, if you came he'd target you too for sure. I can't give him all the cards. You need to rest, got it?" The blue eyes flashed at him.

"Drake!" Cried a voice from downstairs.

Darkwing blinked, this whole thing was surreal. How many people he cared about had been hurt in such a short amount of time? He helped Launchpad steady himself on the banister and hopped over it landing at the foot of the stairs. Morgana was leaning heavily on the doorframe.

She had felt it; he had asked her to wait for him at Darkwing Tower so she did. But he was gone no longer than thirty minutes when she felt agony consume him. She had thought about trying to find him, help him, but she knew she'd blow his cover. So she sat still in the morning light anxiously awaiting his return. She felt his pain like a distant dream, then sensed him approaching at breakneck speed. Somehow she knew that his target wasn't the tower. She had made her way to this house by following his aura, and using her magic to travel faster than she could run, to keep up. She had gotten so close when a few blocks away from this place her mind started to haze. As she got closer to him the harder it got to focus on him, and her magic faltered with every step. She strained to keep her lock, something powerful and unnatural was interfering with her. It was the same feeling she had when her spell failed the day before, when Quackerjack had been able to stab Drake. When she found this house and the bike outside she felt violently ill and nearly collapsed. Negatrons, a horrendously concentrated amount of them were suppressing her, dulling the positive energy of Drake. She could barely stand but could feel him close by, he was her only hope. By the time she had entered the house she could hardly see so she screamed his name. Like a breath of fresh air she felt him catch her before she hit the ground.

"Morgana! Don't tell me he got you too!" His voice was unsteady as if the entire world was rising up against him. There was a resurgence of her strength as he held her, but the interference was still there, holding most of her magic back. Her eyes regained their sight and she focused on his grief-ridden face.

"Dark… what's happened?"

"…" His eyes iced over. "He's got Gosalyn. I have to go get her back. Can you stand?" He helped her up. "Launchpad's been hurt real bad… can you heal him?"

In their precious few peaceful hours together he had told her a lot of his civilian ways. She knew the man's name as that of his best friend, but had never met him. She felt the bloody hand in her own and looked at it.

"What happened to your hand?"

"I'm fine just go help Launchpad."

She stared at him hesitantly, and suddenly the heavy burden of the rallied Negatrons slowly began to lift.

"Please." Darkwing pleaded.

She grasped his hand tighter and cured his wound. With a small kiss on his feathery cheek she released him and ran upstairs.

Darkwing inspected his finger and quickly pulled his black leather glove back over the white feathers. He had a clue where they had gone, Quackerjack had told him in the riddle. He just had to figure it out; he ran the riddle through his panicked brain... Pale children will rejoice… statues? Ghosts? Quackerjack had confirmed they were ghosts when he called them wandering souls, he wouldn't give him the same clue twice. _Think Drake think_! Pale children… albinos? Vampires? This mind was slipping into hopelessness. He had doomed her, just as the clown had said. He felt sick… sick? That was it! Sick! There was an abandoned children's hospital in the slums of the city! He must have taken Gosalyn there!

When the little girl awoke she was in a large room. She looked around, it seemed as if she was on a large wooden platform that was suspended a great distance from the ground, it was almost like being on an un-railed balcony. The building this room was in was clearly unstable as the outside light seeped in through the cracks that lined the ceiling and the walls, making every speck of dust in the air visible. A large bright orange circle was in the center of the platform's floor. Her hands and ankles were stuck together with what felt like a mix of chewed bubble gum and sticky cotton candy. She inched her way to the edge of the platform and gawked down at the huge drop. She saw a strange structure below and through the large, looping, colorful plastic tubes saw a deep fall onto debris that resembled things one might find in a hospital. Rusted and forgotten things big and small littered the faraway floor. Beds, sinks, machinery, there was just too much to identify it all. Deciding not to try and escape that way she made her way to the orange circle in the middle of the floor. Looking down it she saw it led into a… ball pit? No, what was down there weren't hollow plastic balls, but menacing looking things the size of bowling balls with great big spikes bursting out all over them. A jingling sounded from down the hole out of sight and she drew back quickly remembering what had brought her here. Her eyes shot around the dismal platform and noticed there was an older man being held here too, he was terribly still. A sewn shut sleeve shot into sight from the hole and Quackerjack pulled himself up, smiling at her.

"Well good morning star shine!" The evil smile sang sweetly.

"What do you want from me?" She growled.

"From you?" The jester shook his head with a smirk. "I want nothing from you. I'm just looking to kill your _daddie_."

"Yeah right creep! When he gets here he's going to clean your clock you stooge!" She snarled.

"Oh? In that case I should kill you now and get it over with. Or if you'd prefer we can play a little game." Quackerjack didn't loose his eerie smile.

"What kind of game?" She was petrified but she would not let him know that.

"It's called… 'wanna know a secret?' " His smile twisted further along his beak, curling around his jagged teeth.

"…sounds stupid."

"Well I suppose for most people it would be, but for you…. _you_ could learn quite a lot about your _dear ol' dad_."

"Like you'd even know anything about him."

"You're wrong there little Miss Waddle-Mallard. Me and your _dad_ go back a long way. You could say we were real tight." He tugged on the end of one of his straightjacket sleeves for emphasis. He quickly leaned in towards her; his rotten breath slammed her brutally in the face. "Or if you don't want to play that we could always play 'Do you need this to live?' " There was a flash of steel.

"No! The other one! The other one!" She screeched as he moved the blade toward her face.

"You sure? Cuz Mr. Tither over there holds the record so far. You could try to out do him." The shattered eyes swallowed her spunk and she was openly afraid.

"No, I… I don't want to take his victory away so soon." She stared up at him.

"Aw… you hear that Rey?" Quackerjack shouted over his shoulder as his empty hand ruffled her hair. "Ain't she sweet? Okay then have it your way Waddley. So…" He fixed her with a maddening stare. "…you wanna know a secret?"

She nodded, terrified of finding out what the jester had found that Mister Tither didn't need to live.

"Now remember, secrets cannot be told to anyone." He sat in front of her. "If you tell you'll end up worse than Tither over there. Understand?"

Again she nodded as she fought away the urge to break into tears.

"All right. Now what's a good one…?" his face contorted in thought. "Ah, we'll start out simple. Your dad's name isn't really Drake Mallard."

"That's not a very good one." She said hoarsely. He was twirling the knife around absent mindedly,

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But it's true all the same. Okay you want a good one? I've got one that will knock your socks off kiddo." He eyed her suspiciously. "You _are_ wearing socks aren't you?"

She slowly nodded. She knew whatever he was going to tell her would be something that couldn't be unheard. Even if it was made up, it wouldn't be something pleasant or easily forgotten. How would he know anything about Drake anyway? He had to be lying.

"Good, good, socks are important. Now your _daddy_, when he was about your age…" His white eyes burned and he leaned in closer to her. She flinched as he did, he smelt horrible, she suspected that this would be exactly what a zombie would smell like. The dark voice in her ear made her shudder. "…he was eight and you know what he did?" His voice dropped to a rasping whisper. "He murdered his family, killed them in cold blood. Stabbed them over and over with a kitchen knife. And you know what he did when they found him?" She wanted to shut down, to stop listening but he wouldn't let her. "He licked their blood from his hands…."

"That's not true!"

"Oh?" Quackerjack sat back sneering knowingly at her. "You're sure? I mean you would know right? You've known him _soooo_ long, huh? How many years have you known him Ms. Waddlemyer?"

"Well…"

"What's that? You practically just met him? So in the last few months you have learned everything about him? If that's what you're saying answer this for me: Where was he when you needed him today? I'll tell you, he was snuggling with his new girlfriend. Where was he when your Granddad was gunned down? Oh, he was right there wasn't he? Just watching…. He could have saved him, you do know that right? What will happen when he gets tired of you? I mean you already know he can't stand you, you don't make him happy like you used to. Even now he's wishing he hadn't adopted you. So what will happen? I mean, if he can slaughter his own flesh and blood he can certainly slice up a nobody like you with out a second thought."

"Stop it!" She moaned through her tears. How did he know about her Grandfather? How did he know all this? He was just trying to confuse her… Drake would never do any of that! A canvas-covered hand lifted her chin and she stared into the white eyes before her.

"That _was_ a good one huh?" He smiled.

"QUACKERJACK! YOU GET YOUR GODDAMNED HANDS OFF OF HER!"

The Jester tweaked her beak and laughed.

"_Daddy_'s here pumpkin! Now the real games begin!"

Darkwing stood at the foot of what resembled a gigantic hamster tube maze, or more appropriately one of the jungle gyms that are often found in fast food restaurants. There were brightly colored tubes sticking out all over from the vivid compartments that sprawled out before him, all leading a twisted path up to the platform that was near the ceiling. Somehow, he knew that rope ladders and brightly colored, toddler friendly playgrounds didn't await him in it's bowels. He could see them far above. Quackerjack stood up and looked down at him amused, while Gosalyn sat at his feet crying.

"Welcome Darkwing Duck! What took you so long?" The jester shouted.

"Let her go NOW!" Darkwing roared.

"I don't think so! You'll have to come and get your little doll back yourself!" Quackerjack laughed at his anger.

"She's not a toy you lunatic!"

"Really? That's what you think. In fact there are a lot of things people like _you_ say aren't toys. In fact I have something else up here that is just like that!" Quackerjack jingled away and returned swiftly with a plain plastic bag. He turned it over thoughtfully in his hands. "Here we are: 'This bag is not a toy'. Now really, that's silly. How can they say that when they make such splendid masks?" Like a shot he pulled the bag over Gosalyn's head and pulled it tight around her.

"STOP!" Darkwing aimed at the clown.

"No! Now you listen to me Wingy! You play by my rules or the little princess goes to sleep… permanently. Rule number one: NO GUNS! Drop it now or I'll squeeze the life out of her myself."

Dark threw the gun away and the jester pulled the bag from her head. She coughed and gasped painfully, but she seemed okay.

"Rule number two: NO CHEATING! You have to get up here through the tunnel or I'll snap her pretty little neck. And rule number three: if you don't make it up here in twenty minutes, she's mine."

"I swear…" Darkwing seethed, "… if you harm so much as a feather…."

"You're on the clock there _pappy_! Save the threats for when you get up here!" Quackerjack laughed suddenly. "Ohoho! Sorry, I meant **_IF_** you get up here!"

Darkwing stared at the gaping circular entrance. The bastard had him right where he wanted him, but no one would cause her harm and get away with it. He ran at top speed into the blindingly yellow tube.

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

------------------------------------

Hurray for Dell and monthly payments! I am putting up this chapter with my sleek new computer that actually works! I am so happy. So my computer having skills have vanquished the dilemma of not being able to update! And I apologize for this drastic cliffhanger but the next chapter is gunna be long and I'd rather give you a six-page update instead of a nine or ten page one. And as always I have to thank you guys for being so damned awesome. You make this so much fun. So until next time keep on rockin'!


	10. Chapter 10

-Chapter Ten-

Playtime's Over

His boots made an odd clank on the plastic and the echo carried along the cylinder. The tube released into a vibrantly purple round room that he winced at the sight of. The sudden color change made him slightly queasy, which was intentional he was sure. Three passages were laid out before him. He squinted through the vile color and saw the portals to his left and right were similar in the frame of their entrance. The center path had no frame. His mind raced, he couldn't afford to make a mistake, but he couldn't dwell in one place too long. He bolted into center passage when he encountered a camouflaged curtain that wrapped around his face. He stopped quickly and felt his toes hang off a ledge. He tore the curtain away from him and looked at the gaping hole before him. This compartment was floor-less, he could see the actual bottom floor of the hospital from here. Looking down he could vaguely make out rusting medical supplies, it was at least a four story drop. He returned his gaze to the task at hand, there was an unsteady looking bridge made of colorful rope and imitation wood before him. It swayed in an unstable way even when no one was on it. He fixed his eyes straight ahead, there was a portal at the other side.

He took a deep breath and started to run across the rickety bridge. He made it about three quarters of the way across when he heard the ropes snap behind him and the swaying bridge began to fall. Wildly he grabbed on to the rope tight it as it collapsed and dangled him over the deadly fall. He tore his frantic eyes away from what threatened to be his demise and saw the distance that stood between him and the only possible exit. He could do it. He started to climb the fallen bridge by the cheap plastic planks and the rope it was bound with. He heard a foreboding creak and saw the multicolored rope fraying above. He held his breath and scrambled up the remainder of the failing structure. He heaved himself up into the porthole and felt the bridge break away from under his feet. He straightened up and glanced back. This was it, there was no going back, he could only hope he had gone the right way.

A narrow passage laid before him and he had to turn sideways to be able to squeeze into it. The walls he was crammed between were sticky and something brushed past his feet. He couldn't move enough to see what it was, but he was certain it would be better not to know. As he shimmied along darkness slowly surrounded him. The walls slid a in a bit closer and he had to struggle along in the dark. Without warning he stumbled into open air. The pitch black pressed in on his eyes, he breathed in glad to be out of the claustrophobic hall as his eyes tried to adjust. He felt out the floor before him and was glad to find that it was indeed there. His eyes picked up faint lights from his far right and left. When he squinted he could see the shapes of the familiar round portholes. Right? Or Left? Or maybe... he looked ahead. A deeper darkness hung before him. He held out his arms and found the wall. He fumbled around for a moment until he found it, there was a door in front of him. He tested the footing in this new path and after a few steps found the floor missing again.

He kept a hand on the wall and crouched. He couldn't see an inch front of his bill. He groped the darkness and could find no bridge, or any patches of ground either. That would be too much to ask for. He wondered if this was the hospital basement express like the other room had been. If only he had a flashlight, or a grappling hook, or anything or that matter! He squinted around in the darkness as he stood up again. Nothing gave him any help, he looked up hopefully and noticed a strange pattern hidden in the shadows. He hesitantly reached a hand up and felt the metal bar. Monkey bars. Dark jumped up and latched on to the bars and started across them quickly. They rose in a steady incline, it was hard to find the next bar at the angle in which they were laid out in. Was he getting close? He certainly was getting much higher here, he wondered how long he had been in this place. His hand slipped on a greased up bar and he swung out of control. He frantically regained himself and after a moment to calm his breathing he pushed on ahead.

Out of the blackness a blinding white light flashed into life and he shouted out in pain. He had to blink furiously to regain the use of his eyes. He was near the end of the bars and finished them up without anymore snags. He dismounted into a painfully white room. His arms and shoulders ached. He looked at the next task for him pushing aside the pain. He stood on a platform, a rope hung ten feet away from him over a pit. The pit's floor wriggled and swiggled with brightly colored snakes. They looked like the normal rubber snakes you could by in novelty stores, but they were alive and knowing Quackerjack, poisonous as hell. Dark backed up as far as he could, and without a second thought made a mad running jump.

His hands caught the rope and he glanced down at the hissing reptiles. He felt a relieved sigh escape him, but his breath caught in his throat as he heard a noise from above. A scraping, a tell tale sound of metal sliding along metal sang down on him. Through the porthole above he saw a giant pair of scissors closing on the rope. He scrambled up the rope as fast as he could and his fingers caught the rim of the upper compartment as the scissors sliced effortlessly through the rope. The rope plummeted past and landed in the pit of increasingly angry snakes. He struggled and managed to get up into the new room. He was losing stamina fast, and was nearing exhaustion. He caught his breath and stared at the massive clown statue that held the shears. It's empty smile and red eyes laughed at him, he thought back to the doll that he had found in Gosalyn's bed. He took a deep breath and head out into the neighboring room.

The floor his foot his found swivelled along on a predetermined path. He fell into the spinning tunnel. He clumsily steadied himself and made his way through the ridiculous tube. He stumbled out into a soft spongy floor. He tried to stand up straight but the floor tried to suck him under. There were five passages in this room: One right ahead, upper left and right, lower right and left as well. A loud clicking came from the upper right hand port hole and two giant pairs of chattering teeth hopped toward him happily mashing their teeth. He pulled himself free from the hazardous floor and made for the upper left passage. The floor tried to trip him up and the teeth were quickly gaining but he threw himself inside the porthole. He tried to adjust to the hard floor when he was pulled violently back by the throat. One of the teeth had bitten his cape and was trying to pull him back into their reach. He unlatched his cape and watched it disappear into the animated jaws. He worked his way through this tube, which was thankfully normal. He clamored through it quickly and stopped dead in his tracks at what awaited him next.

No walls greeted him, he was staring out into the ruined hospital. For a horrible moment he feared he had gone the wrong way, but he saw the platform at least fifteen feet above him. A long curly covered slide led up to what appeared to be the final compartment. It was far from where he was, the only way to reach the slide's bottom was by braving a twisted path as wide as a ruler. He saw a few viciously spiked balls tumble out of the slide's mouth.

"Time's almost up Daddy!" Cackled a voice from above. Darkwing looked up and saw Quackerjack leaning over the edge of the platform smiling down at him. "In only five minutes she'll be mine!"

Darkwing's blood boiled and he felt his hands form shaking fists. He started across the treacherous path with as much speed as his footing would allow. He couldn't look down, or he'd loose it. He could hear her crying. He had been in there so long already, what if Quackerjack had hurt her? He almost lost his balance.

"Stop crying now little one! I'd be a much better father than he is! Anyone would! Think about all the fun we could have. All the games we could play. " Laughed the high pitched voice.

His anger flooded his senses. This was too slow! He had to stop being so damn careful about where he was stepping and get to her! He slid his feet apart, crouched low, and jumped. He grabbed the path he had reached and pulled himself up. He was near the mouth of the slide, and had to step back to dodge another mean looking ball as it fell out of the slide and careened down into the remains of the hospital.

He wobbly got inside the slide and braced his feet and attempted his ascent. A big green ball bounced down the tube and landed square in the middle of his back. With a scream his footing slid and he almost lost his grip.

"You scream I scream we all scream for ice cream!" Giggled a faint voice from up ahead.

He grit his teeth and pressed forward trying to avoid the onslaught of spiked spheres. They cut up his arms, legs, chest and back. He felt his arms shaking, he fought the urge to collapse, then he saw it. The entrance to the ball pit was just ahead. He lurched forward into the ball pit, more spikes ripping him apart. A net ladder hung in the center of the pit and he trudged onward in agony. He grabbed the net and felt the hidden barbed wire tear open his hand. He tore off the sleeves of his jacket and wrapped the tattered fabric around his palms. He clumsily scaled up the net. He shot his hand up onto the cold metal platform, and his vision blurred in pain as a heavy foot stomped on top of it.

"Well, well,well! You made it after all!" Smiled the jester above him.

Darkwing glared up at him as his fingers stopped responding. The evil smile broadened on Quackerjack's face as he slowly twisted his foot. Dark gritted his teeth choking back the scream. He saw it beside him, the pad locked straightjacket sleeve was hanging right beside him. He grabbed it with his free hand and pulled it down hard. His tormentor stumbled and Dark yanked the straight jacket down with all his might. Quackerjack toppled into the hole and nearly took Darkwing down with him. He quickly shot his good hand up and painfully heaved his torso up to rest on the upper floor. Through his heavy breathing and blurry vision he met her soggy eyes. Gosalyn was huddled up in a corner, tears streaming down her face, thank god she wasn't hurt. She smiled when she saw him.

"Dad!" She cried.

He felt a hand close around his hanging ankle. He looked down to see Quackerjack scowling up at him. With a strength fueled by hatred he smashed his heel repeatedly into the clown's face. He saw the jester pull out his knife and watched it stab his calf over and over, but he didn't feel it. At this point he was in so much pain he was numb. With a final harsh kick the madman's grip failed. He pulled himself up quickly after a glance around he saw Tither lying on the far side of the platform. He limped over to Gosalyn. Her eyes were red from tears, he tore the sticky binding from her hands and feet.

As soon as Gosalyn had seen him, she had dismissed all the horrible things Quackerjack had told her as he fought his way here. The second her arms were free she threw them around his neck and hugged him harder than she had ever done before. Even as sweaty and bloody as he was he smelt wonderful, the rotting flesh stink of Quackerjack cleared from her nose. His shaky arms closed around her and she felt his shoulders heave. She opened her leaking eyes when his tears seeped through her shirt.

"I'm so sorry..." He whispered.

"I'm fine Dad... I'm all right..." She reassured him.

"This never should have happened..."

"But it has!" Growled a voice from the ball pit. "And you'll always remember..." A torn straight jacket sleeve lurched from the hole, the white scratched exposed hand grasping for a hold . He continued, "... That **_I_** was the one who did it!"

She watched him rise from the hole like a demon. Drake's tears had stopped but he still held her. The livid Quackerjack's jacket had been torn and shreds flopped freely around. His hat had been ripped open in places, the stockings were destroyed and his own blood mingled with the blood of his victims. His eyes were filled with a murderous hate and he stared at Darkwing's back.

"I did it! Quackerjack tore down the barriers of you perfect little world! And I won't be the last one who does it!" He screamed sounding more deranged than she had ever heard him. "You hear me Drake!" Shrieked the duck seething with rage. "I'm going to get you! I'm going to tear you apart! Rip you to pieces and throw a ticker tape parade with your guts! Cut out your eyes..." He fumed, "You always looked down at me with those eyes!" His voice cracked with anger. "Now you see! I'm better than you! I've out done you! Who can look down at who now!"

"You're victory speech is premature Cabbage Patch." Growled Darkwing's voice from behind Quackerjack.

Stunned the jester spun around and punched the air. He felt the mallard lunge at his back and quickly turned to block his kick.

"Throwing your voice?" Quackerjack cackled. "That is a neat trick! I never expected something so fun from you!"

Now that Darkwing's arms were bare Gosalyn could see how his muscles flexed as he strategically swung at Quackerjack. He was strong despite how lean he was, he had an excellent balance of strength agility. His fists flew fluidly at their target connecting with grunts and he delivered a fierce kick to the clown's face. Quackerjack crumpled to the floor.

Darkwing hopped slightly, he had used his injured leg in that kick and it was now very unhappy with him. He knew it was far from over, and he was already at a disadvantage. Quackerjack started shake all over with laughter and burst into uncontrollable cackling. He stayed on the floor laughing madly to himself, Darkwing took a deep breath and tried to prepare for the fight before him. Quackerjack sat up quickly, the blood from Darkwing's leg smeared across his face.

"I am _so_ going to enjoy this!" Laughed Quackerjack as he shot up to his feet. He pulled the butterfly knife out and flipped it around in a fancy display. Dark kept his breathing steady and ignored the distracting glinting steel. "Watch carefully Gosalyn dear, and you'll see just what this one is really capable of!" Quackerjack grinned at Darkwing and swung at him.

Dark leaned quickly away as the blade whizzed up past his face, missing by inches. The "v" shaped swing gave him a clear shot at Quackerjack's ribs and he jammed his elbow hard into them. He felt the force of his enemy falter momentarily and he craned back as Quackerjack attempted to slam his careening elbow into the back of Dark's neck. He avoided it barley but the clown's knife-less right fist powerfully pounded him in the face. His instincts kicked in and he shot back dodging a bladed jab. Quick as a shot Dark kicked the knife from Quackerjack's hand, it flew through the air and landed far out of their reach. Quackerjack glanced at it briefly then turned his attention back to Darkwing.

Dark's fist flew at the horrible face but it didn't connect. Instead, the crushing force of a well placed uppercut dazed him. Before he could regain himself a second attack hit him in the gut. Through the pain he clasped his hands together and bashed them into the side of the jester's head. Quackerjack stumbled and Dark kicked him in the chest sending him backward. There was a good distance between them they stood apart each trying to recover. His breath was coming in exhausted "huffs" but his strangled breathing wasn't alone. Quackerjack was hunched over slightly, an arm wrapped around his stomach, the white eyes flickered to the little girl behind Darkwing

"Y... you see?" He gasped. "This 'dad' of yours... he's no saint..."

"Don't you dare talk to her you bastard!" Darkwing bellowed.

Before he could throw anything at Quackerjack the madman was upon him. Darkwing block the left thrust aimed at his head and quickly defended the right jab. His mind was clear and his response time was faster than he expected given his condition. His left knee blocked the powerful kick of his opponent. Again, the fists desperately started flying at him, he swiftly leaned away from them and as soon as he had a clear shot he took it. His heel collided with the lunatic's ribs and with a hard earned grace he broke out into a flying roundhouse kick that sent his aggressor soaring. The figure that had been thrown to the floor wheezed painfully and all the anger he had buried to just get this far screamed through his brain like a freight train.

Launchpad's broken form, the mangled bodies that were strewn so proudly around Chunky Charlie's, the attempt the clown had made to kill him in front of Morgana, and the terror and tears in Gosalyn's eyes. His hatred for this man bubbled over and he threw himself on to the grounded villain, pinned him down and started swinging furiously at the petrified face. He felt the pain in his fist as he pummeled Quackerjack relentlessly. The bastard had dragged everyone he loved down and hurt them just to get to him. He felt bones crack beneath his knuckles and kept his attacks soaring with out a flinch. Quackerjack had flaunted how well he knew all his weaknesses, bragged about it. He felt the body below him writhe and desperately try to knock him off. The son of a bitch had captured his daughter and had no doubt told venomous lies about him. Blood coated his hands and splatter his clothes, the helpless jester shouting in pain with every hit. His head pounded and pumped with the fires of hatred. He was going to beat this no good bastard into oblivion. Suddenly he felt hands try to retrain him, small hands, and his ears finally heard her cries.

"Dad stop!" She shrieked. Her fingers slid down his forearm, her grip unable to catch him through the blood. He pulled out of her feeble grip. "Please stop Drake! You won okay?" She shouted through tears.

He grabbed a fist full of the bloody straightjacket and pulled the battered torso up off the floor. The wide scared eyes gawked at him through the bloody mess that was once a face.

"I should kill you right now..." He snarled. Gosalyn hopelessly tugged on the back of his sweaty, bloody shirt. "But that's what you want isn't it?' He dropped the clown back to the floor hard.

Darkwing pulled himself together and got back to his feet. The broken mass below him curled up in anticipation of another onslaught, but he simply moved away. His knuckles were raw and bleeding, he ached from head to toe, and the look on her face didn't help his heartache either. She stood away from him, tears dripping down her cheeks taking him in as if he was some kind of monster. He noticed her eyes were fixated on his bloody hands, she was looking at them like he was going to something grotesque with them. For some reason he recalled the dream that plagued him, the man in his cell always licked the blood off his hands. He shuddered slightly and shifted his one time sleeves over his battered fists. When his eyes met her's again the fear was gone, in it's place was an intense sadness.

"Let's go Gos." He said weakly. He saw her nod and suddenly a white hot flash of pain seared through him. He found himself fallen to one knee and a pounding pain emanating from the back of his head. His eyes shot to where she had been and found Quackerjack holding her in the air by the throat. He was dangling her over the edge of the platform, she struggled madly as the bloody mess glowered at him,

"You should have killed me when you had the chance, Drakey." He sneered. "There will never be a happily ever after for the likes of you."

Dark felt something metal under his leg, he gripped the knife out of sight.

"Now in return for you being so damn weak you'll have to live with your GUILT!" Quackerjack shrieked and he released her.

Darkwing shouted and stabbed the blade into the jester's chest. A smile spread across the smashed face. Within the blink of an eye Dark had thrown himself over the edge. The air rushed around him, he saw her screaming below lashing about madly. He pressed his legs and arms closely together and plummeted toward her. He snatched her, wrapped his arms around her tightly and turned over in the air. He put himself between her and the floor, if they were going to the hit the bottom maybe he'd cushion her fall. Her slender arms wrapped around him in a constricting hug.

"Dad..." She sobbed.

He shot out his hand suddenly and with excruciating force they wrenched to a halt. His bleeding fingers had caught a small ledge that ran along the outside of one of the lower compartments. He forced her up and she clung to the narrow ledge. He looked down, they had fallen about halfway down, the perilous floor below beckoned to him. A gentle set of soft hands closed around his wrist. He looked up into the green eyes that were full of admiration and love with a smile. There was a sound of a small explosion and a colorful cord wrapped tightly around his waist. He nearly lost his grip as a great weight tried to pull him down. He looked down at the cord's origin and saw Quackerjack holding tight to a colorful grappling pop gun. The clown held the blood stained knife in his teeth and stared to climb the cord toward them. Darkwing turned back to her terrified face.

"Let me go." He breathed.

She stared at him as if he had just sprouted antlers.

"No way!" She sobbed.

"Gosalyn..." His heart broke at what he knew he had to do. "I'm sorry." He started to pry her fingers away from his wrist. She held on tight to his slippery hand her tears raining down on his face.

"I won't loose you too!'

"It's all right..." he smiled weakly. "I love you Gos." His bloody hand slid through her grip and he began to fall again.

"NO!" She howled in anguish as he watched her get smaller.

"Oh how noble!" Growled a voice below him. "But who will protect her from the others Drake?"

He removed the cord from his waist and glared at the smiling face as the littered basement floor came closer to meet them. As sudden has his descent had started he collided with what felt like a brick wall and came to a crashing halt. He heard Quackerjack shriek in outrage, then heard a sickening crash. He lay winded and fighting consciousness, on what he wasn't sure. There was a familiar warm tingling feeling running through him. In agony he opened his eyes a crack and saw the giant cobweb that had caught him. Morgana, he could barely breathe but he knew she was here. The initial shock wore off and sound crept back into his brain. Distant voices were screaming his name, but the sound that ensnared his attention came from much closer. A sickly gurgle came from below him. He looked down and saw he was only five feet from the deathtrap of a floor. Quackerjack stared up at him blood bubbling from his mouth. His brain panicked, was he able to reach him? With a sick turn of his stomach he saw the man had been impaled on a rusty, broken bed frame.

"Y..you never could play this game right." Spluttered the dying duck. "Just you wait... This is only the beginning..." The eerie eyes glassed over and he spoke no more.

Dark wove in and out of consciousness, his head knew the fight was over but his body was tense with anticipation. As his strength surrendered to pain and exhaustion, he suddenly felt a person was kneeling beside him out of nowhere.

"Everything's all right now Dark darling..."

The cell loomed around his nine year old self. His new cell mate was sitting in his usual corner. The two of them were quite an odd pair, alike only in their youth. Drake didn't mind though, it was nice to have someone to talk to, solitary confinement had really started to get to him. He liked having someone to talk to, although the boy was often cold to him. The asylum was pretty quiet tonight, and he laid still on his bed still sore from the electric shock therapy. He couldn't figure out why he was being held here. His mind had hazed over lately, he just wanted to go home. Why was he here? Why hadn't his parents come to take him home? The questions were gnawing at his tired brain when his cell mate spoke.

"Did you see Elmo at zap therapy today?" Asked the voice across from him.

"No."

"Ah that's no fun... haven't seen Sparky in a while." It was quiet for a moment. "Hey, you wanna play a game?"

Drake turned his head to see the smile on the kid's face. That smile was almost as unsettling as the screams they often heard coming from the shock treatment room. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to disappear, to go back to his family. He felt like he was sinking into the bed, before he was smothered he heard his voice speak on it's own, though it was harsher and more gravely.

"No I don't want to play any stupid games you knob!"

The darkness swallowed him.

The memory faded as he drifted awake. The first thing he felt was the tremendous pain from all the damage his now twenty six year old body had sustained, then he felt the cold tile floor beneath him.

"I think he's coming around..." Said a faraway male voice.

His head seared with pain and he felt someone shake him.

"C'mon Dad wake up!"

The agony of even thinking about opening his eyes was almost too much to bear, but he mustered up his will power and cracked them open. The brightness of the world outside his head burned his weary eyes, his vision swam into focus and he saw them surrounding him.

"Hey Dee-double-yuh!" Laughed Launchpad overjoyed.

"Dad!" Squealed Gosalyn as she threw her arms around him. He winced and let out a groan.

"Welcome back Dark." Morgana smiled lightly.

"Ya think you can help him out Morgana?" Launchpad asked.

"My magic has been almost restored, I should be at least be able to mend him enough to make him mobile." Her tingling fingers brushed his forehead.

"Are you all okay?" Darkwing croaked.

"We're fine Darkwing though you've seen better days." Launchpad laughed warmly.

"What about Tither?" It was getting easier to function though his body felt as if it was on fire.

"Well... he's alive." Morgana answered quietly. She removed her hand from his forehead. "Can you get up Dark?"

With an outcry from every inch of his body he stiffly sat up. His head was splitting but he felt better than had a few minutes ago. Gosalyn knelt beside him.

"Feeling better Dad?" She asked gently.

"Feel like I've been run through a meat grinder, but better..."

She quickly punched him in the arm and he shouted in pain.

"Gos!" Gasped Launchpad.

"That's for telling me to drop you!" She growled. "And this is for saving my sorry butt..." She kissed his cheek and hugged him.

"You're nuts kid." He laughed as he hugged back. He patted her head gently and spoke softly to his friends. "Thanks for coming you guys, with out you I'd be..." He recalled the sickly noise Quackerjack made when he died.

"Hey it was our turn to save you 'Mister Hero', right Morgana?" Beamed Launchpad.

"Yes I'm just sorry we didn't arrive sooner. " She ran her hand gently down his back. "We should get out of here."

"Yeah, I'm glad that this mess is all over." Sighed Launchpad wearily.

"Not quite LP. You two take Gosalyn home, I still have some loose ends to tie up."

They voiced their protest but he finally convinced them to go. He assured them that he would be fine and that he had the Rat catcher to get him home. They had been gone a few minutes now, he had his gun back, that lifted his confidence. He had Morgana move Tither to the main floor before she left, and he now held him in his sight. Her response was accurate, he was alive. It looked as if Quackerjack had gotten bored waiting for him to show up and had begun lopping off non fatal pieces of the man's person. His tongue, eyes and a few fingers were missing and that was only what was visible. Darkwing didn't really feel up to finding out all that had been forcefully removed. How long was he here with Quackerjack, Dark wondered, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the weasel. A din of dress shoes rushed toward this room. He smiled lightly to himself, he knew Hooter would figure out the riddle sooner or later. Agents flooded into the room, he leaned against the wall waiting for someone to notice him..Tither was instantly swarmed.

"You're late..."Darkwing proclaimed but his witty commentary was knocked out of him as a giant paw crushed his throat and slammed him against the wall.

"Yoo haf done eet dis time Darkwink!" Roared the grizzly bear.

"I didn't do that to him!" He gasped painfully in response.

"Agent Grizzlicof, release him this instant" The elderly voice was calm but threatening. The bear narrowed his eyes and dropped him. Darkwing rubbed his throat. "Well, Darkwing, where is this Quackerjack that has caused us so much trouble?" Hooter approached him.

There was a shocked cry as one of the agents looked down into the collapsed floor.

"Looks like you man there found him." Dark replied coldly.

"I see he put up quite a fight." Hooter eyed the Darkwing's sorry condition.

"Yeah. I've done what we agreed on. I don't want to be framed for any of this."

"Quite right, have no worries Mr. Duck we won't be blaming you for this."

Darkwing knew that he should ask Hooter about the offer he had made him, the one about joining S.H.U.S.H., that he should ask now while they were still on good terms, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Good, then please excuse me as I make my exit." Darkwing began to walk away when a thin strong hand retrained him. He turned to see Hooter peering at him through his bifocals.

"Are you still quite sure you will not join us? I firmly believe you would do greater good falling into our ranks."

Darkwing smiled.

"Well, I have thought about it a lot lately... but I'm not quite ready to hang up my cape just yet." He fired off a smoke bomb and escaped in the confusion.

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Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney

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Whew... told ya it was going to be long. Only one chapter left, I'll try to get it to you guys soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Goodbye Too Soon

Darkwing Tower was empty when he arrived. He had told them he'd meet them back at the house but he still couldn't shake what had happened. He had known him. The fall must have un-lodged the memory, but it was real, he had known Quackerjack. They were... cell mates. He began to strip the tattered costume from his bruised and wounded body. The asylum that he had been trapped in night after night in his nightmares, it was real. Somewhere out there, this place still stood, a place he had been a prisoner of. Was he once as mad as Quackerjack? Or had the fiend's condition only worsened after his release? No matter how he looked at it, at that age they were suitable enough in demeanor to be cooped up together. But why was the room mate in his dreams different? His head ached. Quackerjack had known. Quackerjack knew who he was, and who knows what else he might have known.

The skewered face from his past haunted him. He pulled the fabric from his blood caked wounds. Was he regretting what had happened? If he had kept Quackerjack alive would he be able to unlock his past? Somehow, he knew, it wouldn't have happened but his mind was spiraling downward in despair and confusion. He pulled on some clean street clothes and gingerly began to remove the cloth from his knuckles. The thought of what he had almost done made him feel sick, the broken skin and dry blood sneered up at him. How would he have felt if he did beat him to death? Would the memory have come anyway? He looked out over the bay, in the darkness he could see past the suburbs and could make out the dim haze that was Duckburg. He would have done it, he would have killed him in such a savage, barbaric way if she hadn't stopped him. What was he going to do now? Should he tell them what he saw? Tell Launchpad, Gosalyn, and Morgana that he had been institutionalized? How would he even be able to start? His head hurt, he'd put all this out of his mind for tonight. He had won a hard fought battle and he needed to be with his... family.

When he set foot in the house Launchpad and Gosalyn welcomed him anxiously. The house was repaired, and her magic still hung in the air. She, on the other hand, wasn't there. It hurt to hear that she had left shortly after they had restored the house. Morgana had parted rather hurriedly for the circus before they could even properly thank her. Gosalyn would not let him dwell on this too long however as she started to regale him with dramatic exaggerations of his fighting technique. She told the tall tale to Launchpad as if it was as credible as a news report. According to her he had leapt fourteen feet in the air and dodged bullets in slow motion, not to mention pulled off a brilliant swan dive as he jumped to her rescue. Her energetic story telling quickly tired her out and they concluded the time had come to get some sleep. Launchpad gave him a friendly slap on the back, that hurt a lot more than Drake let on, and happily left for his apartment across town. The Mallards were alone in their house, the rooms dark and quiet. Gosalyn had been tucked in and he had retired to his own room. He stared at his bedroom ceiling lying restlessly in bed. His thoughts were keeping him awake while his body was fighting for sleep. He heard the door creek open and could just make out a pig tailed silhouette peek through the crack.

"What's up Gos?"

"Can I... Sleep with you tonight?" She asked her voice thick with embarrassment.

"Sure, just as long as you don't punch me again."

She scrambled under the covers and he watched her green eyes stare at him.

"You all right kiddo? Well..." He added thoughtfully, " as all right as you can be, I suppose?"

"Do you remember what you're parents died of?" She asked quickly.

She swallowed hard, she hadn't meant to say it, not blurt it out like that anyway. His cold eyes stayed unblinking on her and she felt that she had crossed the line. Her fear eased when he sighed and turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

"I'm not sure, I can't really remember... but I think they were killed."

"Do you know who did it?" She asked breathlessly, he sighed again.

"No. Why? Did Quackerjack tell you something?"

"..." She didn't want to tell him all the horrible things she had heard. "No." She lied. " He just mentioned they were killed." There was a deep scowl on Drake's face. He really didn't know, she could see it in his eyes. She was sorry she had brought it up, dark thoughts were clouding his head and she didn't want him to be any sadder than he already was. She decided to talk to him about something which they never spoke of before. "You probably already know this but, my dad was killed too."

His eyes returned to her, the comforting face of her adopted father had replaced the one of tortured Darkwing Duck. She had never talked to him about her parents, and he had never imposed on her to tell him. She was grateful to him for that, it was still painful to think about them, but she had to tell him it was only right.

"He used to come to the city a lot on business. He worked for a big jewelry chain owned by some rich guy, I don't remember his name... he had a top hat and little glasses..."

"Scrooge Mc Duck?" Drake interceded helpfully.

"Yeah, my dad didn't meet him or anything, he just was in charge of finding new stores to sell the jewelry. He told me once that St. Canard was the best city in the world, that there were so many different people, so many fantastic places that you could never see it all. He would come back late a lot but one night he just never came back. It was a few days until they found him without his briefcase in an alley..."

"Gos, I'm sorry."

She shook her head.

"My mom was so upset she shut down completely. She just didn't care about anything anymore, she couldn't take care of herself and so Grandpa had her moved to a hospital. He brought me to live with him until she got better but she died not too long after."

There was a silence then she felt his hand ruffle her hair gently.

"Gosalyn..."

"Drake I don't want to loose anyone else... please promise you'll be more careful" She took a firm grip on his hand and stared him down. He gave her a small smile.

"...I promise."

The chill of the late October morning stung him as he stood sadly taking in the sight before him. He had slept uneasily and had awoken early. Morgana had not left any word on when she'd come back, and he wanted to see her. He dropped the drowsy Gosalyn off with the obnoxiously pleasant Muddlefoots and had made his way to the city park where the circus was being held. He stood there now, all the vendor booths and smaller tents had been boxed away. There was a caravan of large trucks being loaded with the dwindling remains of what had been a circus in full swing only a few days ago. Each truck was emblazoned with colorful advertisements for the circus. He trudged along the deserted paths toward the few remaining tents. There were so few left standing and burly movers were transporting large crates to the trucks in battalions. The black tent stood lonely and foreboding ahead of him. He could see the marvels carrying their crates to a moving truck of their own. He looked on for a while, debating on whether he should just leave and not look back. That was what she had wanted... wasn't it? But what about him? He was weak and hurt, he knew he had to see her again, even if it was for the last time.

He managed to get inside the tent with out drawing any attention to himself. The bare open area was almost unrecognizable as the place he had remembered. She was on the far end of the tent using her magic to stack large crates onto a hand cart. He knew she had felt him come in, but she didn't respond in the slightest. She was wearing a thick sweater and a pair of worn blue jeans, and as usual was beautiful. She carried on with her business, it was clear he would have to approach her. Solemnly he neared her and he caught the eye of the marvels quickly. Arnie watched him uncertainly as the little rat put his hand on the heavily stacked hand cart. Drake stopped a few feet behind her and she still ignored him.

"That's all that will fit Arnie, better get it unloaded into the truck quick. There are still a bunch more that need to go out." She said undistracted.

He didn't know what was worse, the pain of his anguished body or her arctic cold shoulder. Arnie silently turned his attention to the cart and pushed it away like it weighed no more than a feather. Drake couldn't contain himself any longer.

" So that's it huh? You were just going to leave without a word?" He felt numb.

She turned to him in a false surprise and smiled emptily.

"Oh! Drake you should be resting" She said happily. He stared coldly at her, the smile faded slightly. "Where's Gosalyn?" The jovial tone in her voice was like a knife being twisted in his guts.

"..." He couldn't understand why she was acting like this. "She's not here."

"No? Well that's too bad, she's always such a riot." She said pleasantly.

"Stop it." He couldn't stand it.

"Stop what?" She blinked at him.

"That!" He snapped. He felt as if her attitude had frozen him. "The act! Everything!"

"Drake, I can't stop. We have to be on the road in two hours and we're all ready behind schedule! Come now Drake... the circus always has to leave, so that when it comes back it will be new and exciting again." She spoke as if she were addressing a three year old. His anger rose and his heart threatened to break.

"Morgana!" He spat her name out like venom and the smile vanished from her face. It was quiet, he could see her thinking. A battle raged between losing his temper and having an emotional breakdown. Why was she doing this? All of a sudden he felt a coldness rush off of her. The warm ease she usually held for him was now a glacial wall. This wasn't real, he told himself, she had to be masking it.

"Oh... Drake..." She said her face falling into pity. "You didn't think 'we' were serious did you?" She spoke but she might as well have stabbed him in the eye with a red hot poker. "Did you think we were a couple? Oh I'm sorry, I'm so stupid. You see, I just wanted some company... that's all. It gets so lonely being on the road..."

"Don't you try to feed me that bullshit Morgana!" He fumed. She was lying. She had to be. This wasn't right.

"Drake, I never meant to hurt you..." she took a step back as if she was afraid he was going to throttle her.

Something was wrong, this whole thing was wrong! She was hiding something from him. She started on some empty, rehearsed speech about how if she had known he'd have grown so attached she would have never picked him. That being an adult he should understand that blah blah blah... He tuned out the words, there was an odd feeling nagging him. He recognized it after a moment. She was afraid of him. The chill rolled off of her and hit him cruelly. He was going to find out why she was so scared of him. Without warning he grabbed her hand. A gust of wind shot out from around them and the warmth returned. She was staring at him, speechless.

"You and I need to talk." He pulled her along behind him and brought her outside. He dragged her out of earshot of the tents. They stopped at the edge of a small patch of trees. He was angry, hurt, and brokenhearted. He felt his temper ebb on the verge of complete explosion.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He scowled.

"I..I've already told you... we're packing..." She started.

"God damn it Morgana!" He flared. "Am I really that worthless to you that you can lie to me right to my face? I'm hurting like hell here and you don't give a damn, is that what you're aiming for?"

"Drake... you don't understand..."

"Of course I don't! How can I understand when you don't talk to me?" His temper boiled over. "You invade my life, steal my heart right out from under me, tell me you love me and then try to leave town without so much as a tip of a hat? What exactly are you doing Morg 'cuz I don't have a damn clue!"

"You think this is easy for me?" A tear slid down her cheek.

"You make it seem that way!" He cried defiantly. "What happened? What did I do to make you so afraid of me?"Her tear filled eyes met his desperate glare.

"Afraid of you?"

"Don't deny it, I can practically smell it on you." He said shortly. She closed her eyes and water leaked through her thick eyelashes.

"I do love you Drake... I just can't stay here, they need me..."

"That's not what I asked you." He calmed himself down. She had become herself again. She kept her eyes closed the tears steadily sliding down her face. He put his arms around her, she let out a quavering sigh as she tried to choke back her tears.

"I've done you a horrible evil, I've opened a floodgate in your mind. One that was meant to stay shut. I didn't mean too, it just happened. I found a part of you that you yourself had never known. Where your darkness and negatrons lie, and yes you scare me. I don't know who you really are or what you did with that negative energy, but I saw something yesterday that shook me..." She said tearfully.

He thought back to vision of the boy that would grow into Quackerjack.

"You saw my memory too?"

"Yes... you were in an asylum. You were the same boy... the same age you had been when I saw your... your parents' deaths."

He stared off over her shoulder into the distance. What was wrong with him? Why did he cause everyone so much pain? Why couldn't his life not careen off into dark places?

"...do you think I killed them?"

"No, not as you are today but... Oh I don't know Drake... what am I supposed to think?" She asked helplessly.

He wanted to say: "Believe in me! I would never do anything like That", but he was unsure himself. How could he tell her what to think when he questioned it himself? This relationship that was so precious to him was crumbling in his hands.

"I wish I could tell you Morgana, but I know as much as you do at this point." He held her close and tried to commit her to memory. Soon she would be gone and all he would have left would be his memories. One way or another she wasn't going to stay, and if he was never to see her again he had one last thing to do. If he didn't he would regret it. She had said it so confidently to him but he had yet to return it.

"I love you Morgana..." He said softly. "No matter what happened in the past or what will happen, I love you."

She trembled slightly and her tears heavily splattered his shoulder. Her arms encircled him, closing out the bitter cold of the world around them.

"Dark, darling I know... I know..."

She couldn't' stay, and he understood why. Without a true blue sorceress the act would fail, but more importantly they were like her family. She couldn't leave them high and dry. She couldn't remain here just as much as he couldn't' go with her. He didn't look forward to how ill he'd feel the next day, but he knew she'd come back even if it wasn't until the next time the circus was in town. She was collecting herself, stifling the tears and rubbing them away. Her hand slid off his back and came around to lay to rest on his chest as she wiped the remaining tears away. The giant blood red jewel sat heavily on her middle finger, he placed his hand over hers gently. He wished he had anticipated being parted from her so quickly, he would have gotten her something. Her big green eyes danced to his hand, confused he followed her gaze and saw light shining out through the gaps in his fingers. Quickly, he retracted his hand and the ruby was gone, a dazzling white crystal shone on her finger.

"You... you imprinted it." She said in hushed excitement.

"Did I? Is that bad?" He asked abashed.

"No..no You've made it stronger, it will be like you are with me where ever I go." She smiled and clasped the ring lovingly.

"Ah... so I've been replaced by a jewel?" He teased.

"Well, at least it can control it's temper and doesn't get into fatal situations." She playfully smiled.

"Oh I see... and I suppose it doesn't own a cape either?"

"No, I'm afraid it doesn't have an ounce of anything dramatic, and I don't know if I've mentioned it but I do love a man of danger."

"Oh is that so?" He smirked. She nodded her dazzling smile making him feel a bit weak in the knees. "Well then... let's get dangerous." He kissed her and the odd tingle ran through him again. The sweetness of this feeling was something that was going to hurt deeply when it was gone.

"Oh Drake you've given me something so wonderful... let me heal you in return. I can fix you up better than ever"

"No... I think these wounds should heal themselves..."

"Darling... you can't blame yourself for what happened to Quackerjack..." She put her hand on his cheek.

"I don't want to take the easy way out Morg... I owe him that much I think."

"Then... I want you to have this." She fished her fingers under the collar of her sweater and pulled a gold chain off over her head. She slid it carefully over his and he felt the gold pendant pull it down. It was an intricate crest detailed with a monogram "M".

"It's the Macabre family crest, it's been passed down in my family for decades." She fingered it lightly. "It's very special to me... it reminds me that I still have a family, that I still have a home waiting for me..."

"I can't take this..."

"But... you are my family now," She smiled sweetly. "Where ever you are is my home."

"I don't deserve this Morgana..." He began but she quickly covered his bill with a gentle hand.

"Yes you do and so much more! I wish I could stay with you and make sure you did get everything you do deserve my wonderful Drake Mallard..."

"It's alright, I know why you can't." He smiled half-heartedly.

"I will come back. I promise. If you ever need me, I'll be on my way back to you in a heartbeat." Her eyes sparkled.

"Well, I'll be here waiting for you when you do."

The cold air around them turned peacefully warm as it reached the pair. They shared their last kiss and she started back to the tent. The frost crept slowly back over him with each step that separated them. She made it halfway back when she turned to him, her cheeks rosy.

"Could you say it once more please?" She asked meekly.

A smile flooded his face and he threw his arms open wide as he shouted as loud as he could.

"I love you Morgana Macabre!"

"And I love you Drake Mallard!" She cried in response.

He held the crest in his hand. She had been gone for four hours now and he felt like he would be violently ill. It was a strange crest, adorned with gold little spiders and bats engraved with great accuracy. This life... the path he had chosen was getting more and more complicated as the days went on. He had a taxing job, a spirited daughter, a rather neglected best friend, a magically talented girlfriend, and on top of all that a dynamic nightlife. S.H.U.S.H. was looking more and more appealing by the minute, but some part of him told him to hold off. Told him harder times were ahead. Quackerjack had said that there would be others like him... that it wouldn't be the last time he would be attacked from all sides. Was it just a threat from a madman or a warning from an old friend? He tucked the pendant under his shirt, the cold metal seemed to ease his pain. He glanced around the empty hideout and felt the solitude close in around him. It was a feeling he would have to come to terms with. The afternoon sun hung sleepily in the sky, spreading it's golden light across the bay. He leaned heavily on the window sill. Whatever was going to happen, Darkwing Duck would be there to face it.

The End

Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney.

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Hope it didn't get too mushy for you guys toward the end there but it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside writing it. And I know I have been a wicked naughty girl and getting your hopes up but I must tell you that there will be no Megavolt next story (sorry He's in the fourth one though!) I haven't quite finished writing out the third installment yet, I'm near the end but just have to wrap the whole thing up. So I'll try to start posting it as soon as I'm pleased with how it's turned out. It's been quite an undertaking, lots of character's heads I've had to invade, and tons of drama. In hopes of making amends for my sneaky Megavolt teasing I'll tell you that it has a lot to do with Negaduck, and the Liquidator's origin along with a an invasion that I was surprised never happened in the show. So in a sign of my eternal gratitude to you, my **awesome** readers, here's a little teaser/summary for you.

Bud Flood has come to the conclusion that his wife is having an affair, little does he know that the actions he takes will result in the worst (and last) days of his life.

A month has passed since Morgana has left, and Drake has heard nothing from her. His spirits are dark and bitter. He can't shake the feeling that he's been awake for weeks even though he sleeps every night. His mood isn't lightened when out of the blue the worst thing ever to happen to the crime fighting scene (in his opinion) rolls right into his city. Gizmoduck confronts him and demands his surrender for his heinous crimes against Scrooge McDuck, the only problem is Darkwing has no idea what he's talking about. Angry accusations of his alleged thieving come from a violent Launchpad, Mc Duck sets a hefty reward on his head, and S.H.U.S.H. is working with them to bring him to "justice", then things get really out of hand. Is someone masquerading as him or is it deeper than that? Will Launchpad's anger separate him from Drake and Gosalyn and return him to the family he once had? Where is Morgana and why can't he feel her presence? All the answers lie in one man, but he'd much rather torture Drake than supply any answers. See how it all unfolds in the third in my Darker Darkwing series in

Doubts and Doppelgangers


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